


Yours. Mine. (Ours.)

by Oldguybones



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: F/M, M/M, Past Eddie/OMC, Past Richie/Sandy, Side Benverly - Freeform, Side Stanbrolon, adoption au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21567613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oldguybones/pseuds/Oldguybones
Summary: They always say blood is thicker than water, but what about ink? When Eddie Kaspbrak decided it was time to adopt, he never expected to have his son’s birth-father show up  wanting to be a part of his son's life. Let alone part of Eddie’s. But that is precisely what happens when he gets a call from the adoption agency the day after his son's sixteenth birthday, giving him the details to reach out to Richie Tozier, a comedy writer who's worried he's made every wrong decision along the way. When the two of them meet, they form a unique bond and discover what they've both been missing in life.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Original Male Character(s), Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Sandy & Richie Tozier
Comments: 100
Kudos: 204





	1. Chapter 1

_“_ **_Richie_ ** _!”_

_The panicked tone in his girlfriend’s voice startled Richie away from his deep slumber. The red numbers of his alarm clock illuminated his face, flashing 2:17am back at him. Richie scrambled to sit up and whipped his head over in Sandy’s direction, seeing that she was also upright with a hand resting on her rounded stomach. Her typically soft green eyes were dark with fear and apprehension._

_“I think it’s time,” she whispered, her voice shaky and uneven._

_"Now? Really?" He demanded, trailing off in an amused laugh, "On my birthday of all days?"_

_This comment, despite the circumstances, elicited a soft chuckle from Sandy. "Well I'm sorry," she barked sarcastically, "I can't exactly control when the baby comes!"_

_"Right, right, right," Richie mumbled, his eyes almost comically wide as he shot out of bed. In all the commotion, he tripped over his own feet, falling but catching himself on the bed. He pushed himself up, running over to Sandy’s side as she maneuvered herself to the edge. When she looked up at him, there were tears shining in her eyes._

_“Hey, hey, hey,” Richie said, brushing his thumb across her cheek and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It’s gonna be okay. It’ll all be over before you know it.”_

_“Easy for you to say,” she whimpered as she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She squeezed his hand tightly while the two of them made their way out to the car. Richie helped her into the passenger seat and raced around to the driver’s side._

_“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he assured her, allowing their fingers to lace together once again. To a third party, it might sound like he was solely attempting to comfort his girlfriend, but in reality, his words were just as much for his benefit as hers. There was a pit in the bottom of his stomach like nothing he’d ever felt before; it was a mix of nerves and sadness and doubt._

_His free hand, the one not in the death grip of his girlfriend, clutched the steering wheel with an equal force; his knuckles turned white as his fingernails dug into the tattered leather, picking at rips in the material from the countless times he’d done so before. His eyes focused on the road the best he could force them to, flickering briefly over to the woman in his passenger seat. Her other hand rested on her stomach, rubbing over the bump as she pulled in a deep breath through her nose and exhaled it through slightly parted lips._

_“You’re doing great baby,” he encouraged her, “Keep breathing.”_

_The words tasted bitter leaving his lips. He meant them, no doubt about that. But they stung, like rubbing alcohol to a cut. It felt like a sharp reminder that the wound existed._

_He wondered if Sandy felt the same, if she was having the same doubts he was. They could do this. They were both extremely intelligent and beyond capable._

_"I just can't wait for this to be over," she whimpered, looking over at Richie and squeezing his hand. But this time it wasn't due to a contraction. Richie knew exactly what it meant and it killed him inside._

_"Then we can go back to the way things were."_

Richie woke up with that same feeling rattling around in his chest. He opened his eyes and stared at his dingy, popcorned ceiling, trying desperately to ignore that little piece of his brain attempting to alert him of the date. He already knew. He didn't need the reminder; no, he felt the way his heart sank, just like it had for the past sixteen years. 

With a sigh, he rubbed his hands over his face, as if the action could wipe away over a decade of guilt and regret, which had manifested itself into a killer headache. Or perhaps it would be easier to blame the actual culprit, the three glasses of bourbon he drank before bed last night. Eventually, it became time to face the music; he could no longer bounce back like he was in his twenties, or even his thirties. 

He reached over to his nightstand to grab his glasses, sliding them on in hopes that their presence would help diminish his headache. Well, that and he was blind as a bat without them. But honestly, maybe he didn't want to spend the day seeing. Without them, it would be that much easier to ignore all the well wishes and the best intentions. He didn't have to look at his phone to know he already had dozens of messages between his friends trying to coordinate their plans for the day. Not very sneaky on their part, but in their defense, he was extremely difficult. All he wanted to do was forget everything about this day and they didn't make that easy, or even possible, really. 

With a reluctant sigh, he picked up his phone, squinting at the harsh light of the screen glaring back at him in the dark room (thank God for black out curtains). There were a handful of generic birthday messages on his Facebook from people he didn't know or care about anymore, a missed call from his mom accompanied by a voicemail, and a handful of texts to him directly, as well as between them in the group chat. He swiped each notification to the side, reveling in the momentary relief it brought him before another one popped right back up. 

Opting to ignore it, he tossed his phone off to the side and shuffled towards the bathroom. Whether it was to puke or piss, he'd figure it out when he got there; before he could though, he caught his reflection in the mirror. What a mistake that had been. He couldn't help but ask himself if that was truly what he looked like. The reflection staring back at him...was that what people saw when they looked at him?

Did all the lines and wrinkles on his face really belong to him? The slight beer gut definitely wasn't him, neither was the mouth of yellowed teeth. To describe his hair as unruly would be a gross understatement and to say his facial hair matched would be incredibly accurate. He looked like a caveman and not even a well put together one. 

Not exactly the best foot forward into his forties. Forty years old. He mulled that over for a long, humbling moment. 

And then he puked.

When he emerged some time later, he found both comfort and anguish in the silence of his apartment. He truly was alone, but that was what he wanted along, right? To spend his birthday the way he felt he deserved to? 

By himself. 

He tried to shake away the pathetic amount of self pity, but he found it still lingered. He figured the best course of action was a cup of coffee. Afterall, nothing seemed as bad after a fresh, hot cup of joe. 

He made his way out of the bathroom and shuffled down the hallway. Before entering the kitchen though, his attention was stolen by a shifting sound in the living room. He whipped his head around and nearly had a heart attack when someone popped up from behind his recliner, screaming, "Happy Birthday!"

His hand flew up to cover his mouth as he scrambled into the kitchen, barely making it to the sink before puking again. He really wished now that he had done the dishes the night prior like he tried to force himself to. Standing up once again, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"Was that really necessary?" He snapped angrily as Bev made her way into the kitchen, the smirk on her face expressing how pleased she was with herself. 

"Entirely," she replied, continuing her stride across the kitchen and over to where he stood. She stood on her tiptoes and enveloped him in a warm hug. "Was it really necessary to puke into a sink full of dishes?"

"Entirely," he echoed mockingly. His arms wrapped around her waist to return her hug, even if it was a slightly reluctant action. "Seriously Bev, what the fuck? I gave you a key for emergencies. This seems like an abuse of power."

Bev rolled her eyes, "Oh, c'mon Rich. It's your birthday," she reasoned, "I figured I'd come take you out for the day. We can grab lunch. Maybe get you cleaned up a bit."

"Gee, thanks," Richie muttered sarcastically, 

"What?" she questioned gently, stepping back to take a closer look at him. "Can you honestly say that you've been taking care of yourself?" She sighed, "I know how you feel about your birthday. But you're no spring chicken anymore, Rich. Maybe it's time to cool it with the binge drinking."

Richie's face scrunched up in offense, lip jutting out in a slight pout. "I don't think you're allowed to be this mean to me on my birthday."

"I don't think _you're_ allowed to use that as an excuse," she chirped, poking her finger to his chest. "That's reserved for people who actually enjoy their birthdays."

"Well excuse me for not--"

"Richie," she cut in, her voice firm enough to interrupt, but still soft with compassion. "I know today's a hard day for you. But you need to start taking care of yourself and I just want to help. Besides, what else did you really have planned for today?"

_Inside the hospital room, it felt like total madness. Nurses came bustling in every hour to check their progress as Sandy attempted to breathe through worsening contractions. Each one grew in length and intensity, turning her soft whimpers into cries of pain. All Richie could do was stand by her side, hold her hand, and sing her praises. Even when he felt like Sandy was about to break his hand from how tightly she gripped it, he still told her what an amazing job she was doing._

_They'd arrived at the hospital around 2:45am and then by 3:15am, they were checked into their room. The time was now nearing 11am. Richie's eyelids felt heavy and if he were to close them, he wasn't sure he'd be able to open them again. Tired didn't even begin to cover how he felt, but he knew that Sandy must feel that tenfold. She looked exhausted; her eyes blinked slowly as she stared up at Richie, leaning into his touch when he pushed the blonde bangs from her sweaty forehead._

_Richie leaned down to press a lingering kiss to the top of her head. "You're doing great sweetie," he told her, sincerity shining in his bright blue eyes, before being replaced by the slightly mischievous glint. "But could we maybe hurry this thing up a bit? You see, it's my birthday and I don't know if I really wanna spend it in a hospital."_

_Sandy forced out a laugh, "Not the time for jokes, Rich. Besides, you have nothing planned and you know it!" She added teasingly._

"Yeah, well maybe I had nothing planned and liked it that way," Richie snapped defensively, his hand ducking under his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I just wanna be alone for my birthday, okay?"

"Yeah, but that's what you did last year," Bev retorted smoothly, "And the year before that and the year before _that_ and the year befo-"

"Okay, okay!" Richie cut her off with a wave of his hand, "I get it. There's nothing wrong with being alone."

"But you shouldn't be on your birthday," she pressed, "Especially when it's a tough day to begin with. C'mon! Ben is watching the kid all day so it's just the two of us! We can go get lunch at that taco truck you love so much. I may even have a joint or two in my purse…"

Richie gasped playfully, "Bev, how scandalous of you."

Bev laughed softly, "And then if you're up for it, you can come over to our place and enjoy a home cooked meal. When was the last time you had one of those?" She asked, a hand resting on her hip as she eyed him accusingly. 

Richie heaved out a sigh, "If I say yes, will you stop nagging me?"

Bev paused to consider it for the briefest of seconds before nodding, "Mmhmm."

"Then fine, I'll go," Richie conceded finally, even if it was done so reluctantly. Maybe Bev had a point though; it wouldn't be the worst thing to spend his birthday with Bev and Ben and their family. And maybe it couldn't hurt to clean himself up a bit. Bev hit the nail on the head with that one. It had been a while since he'd done anything to take care of himself; he couldn't even recall a length of time. 

"You get changed," Bev said affectionately, pushing him in the direction of his bedroom. 

"Okay, fine," Richie called over his shoulder, "But by the time I get back, that joint better be lit!"

_Richie knew he would feel so much better about this if the outcome was different. But it just felt emotionally draining to support Sandy through this only for someone else to walk away with their baby. It honestly broke his heart to think about and it was all he could do to stop himself from tearing up at the thought. He needed to hold it together; he didn't have the luxury of breaking down, it wasn't about him right now._

_He held Sandy's leg back and squeezed her hand. "You're doing so good sweetie. That's it. Keep pushing. Holy shit, there's a person coming out of you right now!"_

_Despite it all, Sandy let out a bark of laughter, "Kinda the point, Rich."_

_Richie's jaw dropped as he watched for another second before moving his gaze up to Sandy's face instead. "I'm just gonna, keep my eyes up here," he said, feeling the slightest bit faint from all the blood and gore._

_Over the next period of time, Richie kept encouraging her through it, insisting she push and breathe; after a while, he was sure it just felt like he was nagging her. But even the delivery nurse had commented on what a supportive father he was; those simple unknowing words, however, threatened to steal his breath away. He wasn't a father; he didn't have what it took to be one. And suddenly, all the pride he felt and the excitement bubbling up in his chest sank and he felt nothing._

" _Okay Sandy, one more good push and then you're done," the doctor told her and she squeezed his hand with a surplus of determination._

 _Richie agonized over it._ **_Done._** _After this, they were done; this was the only part they would play in their child's life._

_Seconds later, the soft cries of a baby filled the room and Richie felt his heart skip a beat. His eyes quickly welled up with tears at the sight of his baby._

_"It's a boy," he vaguely registered the doctor saying aloud, to no one in general because they were aware of their_ **_situation_ ** _._

_He had a son. The thought overwhelmed him and then tore him down in an instant because he realized that he didn't have a son after all. He watched the nurses clean him up, his attention flitting back to Sandy who seemed disinterested in the whole situation; perhaps it was just pain manifesting itself as apathy. This had to be just as hard for Sandy; actually, it was probably even more difficult for her, having carried their baby for 9 months._

_Yet despite all that, he watched her nonchalantly decline the opportunity to hold him when the nurse offered. In fact, she didn't even want to look at him. The nurse brought him over to Richie and he felt every string of his heart pulled by those bright blue eyes staring back at him. But he, too, declined. Both to keep up appearances with Sandy, to make it seem like he wasn't regretting every decision they'd ever made. And also because he knew if he held that baby, there was no way he'd ever let him go._

Richie had to admit that he felt better after spending a few hours with Bev. It helped that she had, in fact, lit the joint like he’d requested and before they left for the day, they had spent some time smoking and catching up. It had been a good few years since they had done this and Richie would’ve been more than content to do it all day. But still, Bev had other plans for them. 

First, they had stopped by Bev’s favorite salon where they gave him a much needed haircut. Because apparently, man buns were only in style for men half his age. They also trimmed all his facial hair and cleaned up the major neck beard he had going on. It wasn’t intentional, none of it was really; it had just been months since he’d bothered to do anything about it. After all was said and done, he had to give credit where credit was due because even just these small changes made him look a few years younger. 

Next, they went to the nearest nail salon. He didn’t fight this one at all. Back in their teenage days, him and Bev would save all their money and splurge on manicures, and pedicures when they could afford it. Richie had one stipulation though, he didn't want any colored polish on his fingernails; after all, he wasn’t 15 anymore. The manicurist had joked that he could only do clear polish if he let her take care of his hairy knuckles. He and Bev left the shop with matching pink toenails. 

Then finally, they went across town to his favorite taco truck and grabbed all too much food. They took it to their old favorite hang out, which seemed entirely more accessible when they were younger, but they managed and were now sitting at the top of the cliff, legs dangling over the edge. 

Something about the clear water beneath them called for contemplation. He wondered what his son was up to on their shared birthday. His family probably had some extravagant birthday party planned. Sixteen years old. Sweet sixteen. It was a big deal and the thought made his chest ache. Bev picked up on it right away. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Bev asked curiously, obviously feigning her cluelessness. 

Richie shot her a knowing glare. He heaved out a sigh as his attention turned back to the still water below them. “C’mon, Bev. You already know.”

Bev moved the food that was resting in between them and scooted closer to Richie, resting her head on his shoulder and grabbing his hand to lace their fingers together. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, “What do you think he's like?"

Richie shrugged hopelessly, bright blue eyes shining with tears. “I don’t even know his name,” he whispered in defeat, sniffling softly and wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“Maybe you should consider trying to meet him,” Bev told him, just like she had countless times before. She stroked her thumb over Richie’s. “Maybe it’s time. You insist that you’re going to every year and then every year you don’t and you just mope around wishing you had.”

Richie let out a wet laugh, “Geez, what’s with the birthday of tough love?”

Bev erupted with laughter, throwing her head back with the sound. After a moment, she smiled fondly at Richie, reaching up to stroke her thumb affectionately over his cheek, “You deserve a life that you want to live. I don’t know if you’re gonna believe me, but you do deserve to be happy.”

“I don’t know how,” Richie admitted with a helpless shrug of his shoulders. "I feel like it's too late. I'm forty now and I've got nothing to show for it."

"It's never too late," Bev persisted with an endearing amount of sincerity. 

"Easy for you to say!" Richie exclaimed, waving his hand dismissively in her direction, though he had hints of a smile tugging at his lips. "Mrs. Perfect house, booming career, _gorgeous_ husband, adorable kids. You've literally got it all."

“And before I had it all, I didn’t.”

“Wow Bev, that’s real fucking profound.”

Bev scoffed lightly in offense, raising her head from Richie’s shoulder and shoving him playfully, no real heat behind the action. “All I’m saying is that right now you’re standing on the starting line, not the finish line. You’ve got a whole life ahead of you, Richie.”

“Wooooow,” Richie chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Could you have been any cheesier, Marsh?”

“Oh, can it, Tozier!” Bev exclaimed lightheartedly and hopped up to her feet, beginning to gather up all their trash. “Let’s go. I think Ben and Willow are baking you a cake.”

“Your gorgeous husband and your adorable kids,” Richie teased as he stood up, moving to bump his shoulder against Bev’s. He smiled softly at her, “Thank you, for everything.”

Bev returned the smile and held out her out for him, “Anytime, Rich.”

_Richie felt a deep pit at the bottom of his gut as he sat in the bedside chair, his knee bouncing anxiously. His eyes were fixed on Sandy who was fast asleep in the hospital bed and had been for some time now. They’d barely spoken since the birth, a tense atmosphere quickly settling within the silence. Richie didn’t know what to say; he couldn’t tell her what he was actually thinking and she was obviously exhausted so he couldn’t really put it past her._

_It was a mistake. All of it. Nothing but a huge mistake that he couldn’t bear to make. When they first found out, he had been so on board, unable to entertain the thought of being a father, even for just a second. As the pregnancy progressed, his feelings remained the same and while it had been surreal to feel the baby kick, it did nothing to spark a parental urge in him. In fact, it didn’t hit him until they picked a pair of adoptive parents; then, all of a sudden, he was filled with nothing more than doubt and regret._

_But that moment felt miniscule compared to welcoming his son into the world. Every decision he had ever made seemed obsolete now because if he could be wrong enough to_ **_ever_ ** _want to give him away, then surely nothing else had ever been right before. Those blue eyes looking back at him made him question everything._

_He found himself at the nursery before he could talk himself out of it. Standing in front of the window, he peered in at all the little bundles asleep in their cribs. His hands were shoved into his pockets and his heart hammered against his rib cage, like a prisoner trapped in the cage of his own decisions._

_Slowly, his eyes scanned over the name cards on the front of the cribs, reading them carefully until he finally came upon_ **_baby Tozier._ ** _He felt a little breathless, his heart both swelling with pride and aching with remorse. Perhaps, it was just cruel to torture himself like this. With a heavy sigh, he spun on his heel, intending to walk away, but a soft voice stopped him._

_“Do you want to hold him?”_

_He turned to see one of the nurses who had been in the delivery room, lips curved up in a gentle, yet all too knowing smile._

_Richie exhaled a shaky breath and he could feel the tears already springing to his eyes. “Can I?” he asked, his voice thick with an intense vulnerability. He didn’t mind letting the nurse witness it; she seemed to be kind enough to not pass judgment on him._

_She led him into the nursery and over to a plush chair they had set up in the corner. encouraging him to take a seat in it. He did, despite his restless energy, watching as the nurse brought over a small bundle of blue._

_His pounding heart seemed to skip a beat when she gently placed his son in his waiting arms. The baby made the softest sound of protest, but went silent as he settled in Richie's hold. He stared up at Richie with bright blue eyes that were identical to his own and it knocked the air from his lungs._

_He was grateful that the nurse walked away, busying herself around the nursery while he sat there, because he couldn't stop the tears from trickling down his cheeks. He was looking at his son,_ **_holding_ ** _his son, this little person that he had a part in creating. He could see the parts from each of them that made up the whole: his eyes, her nose, his lips, her cheeks. There was no doubting that this baby was theirs._

_Except, he wasn't._

_He wasn't theirs at all. In the morning, a couple would be coming by to take him home with them. He was cleared with a clean bill of health and that meant his real parents could take him home. All they had to do was sign the papers._

_But now, holding his son in his arms, he wasn't sure if he could do that. How was he supposed to give his child away to a couple of strangers? He had no way of knowing if these people were qualified to care for him; sure, they were thoroughly vetted by the adoption agency, but it just didn't feel right._

_He thought about begging Sandy to keep him. They could raise him together and be a little family. They were young, he knew that. But he was sure his parents would be happy to help them and he had a number of friends who would lend a hand too._

_But that wasn't fair of him to ask her. Her feelings on the matter were more than clear and the last thing Richie wanted to do was pressure her into doing something she didn't want to do, especially if it caused her to resent him down the line. He was crazy about Sandy; he didn't want to lose her._

_Maybe he could do this on his own. That thought was fleeting and seemed to mock him in passing. He couldn't do this by himself; he couldn't be the sole guardian to another human being, that was crazy. He would screw it up by the end of the first week._

_And then he thought about the couple, who had been waiting months until this day came. They were promised a child, one they had probably been waiting for for much longer than the few months since they'd be selected. Who was Richie to go back on their word? Who was he to take that away from them?_

_He stroked his thumb against the baby's cheek as all these thoughts swirled around in his mind. "I love you," Richie whispered to him, his voice quivering. "Please don't ever doubt that. Or think I didn't want you."_

_He smiled tearfully as the baby continued to stare up at him quietly. "This couple is gonna give you a great life. One far better than I ever could." He let a somber moment pass by. "I mean the guy's a risk analyst for fuck's sake. That just sounds fancy." He winced as the words left his mouth, the next ones coming out automatically. "Oh shit, I probably shouldn't swear in front of you, huh?"_

_The baby just blinked slowly up at him, his little eyelids eventually fluttering shut. Richie lost track of time there as he watched his son sleep. Was it a minute or an hour? All Richie knew was, no matter how long it was in reality, it still didn't feel like enough time_ . _The second he handed his son back to the nurse, he felt a large piece of his heart go with him. His hands shook with a severity he’d never experienced before as he reached up to wipe the tears pouring down his cheeks, trying to ignore the fact that he would never see his son again._

“Make a wish, Uncle Richie!”

Richie smiled fondly at the excited exclamation from his five year old niece, Willow; she sat in his lap as they all huddled around the dining room table, which held the homemade cake they’d baked for him. It was carrot cake, his favorite but no one else's. He had to stifle his laughter while Bev and Ben struggled to explain that it was Richie’s birthday which meant he got to pick out the cake and open all the presents. As it was, he was having a hard time keeping her from blowing out the candles. He playfully rested his head on top of hers and quickly blew out the 40 candles on the cake, joking offhandedly about what a fire hazard it was.

“What’d you wish for?” Willow asked, peering up at him with the softest brown eyes filled with curiosity and excitement. 

Richie laughed and tickled her sides, “Well if I tell you, it won’t come true,” he said, poking his tongue out at her. 

She shrieked with giggles, kicking her legs as she tried to squirm away from his hold. 

“Do you wanna help me take out all these candles?” Richie asked her, smiling as he lifted her up to stand on his thighs. He held onto her tightly as she threw herself forward and began plucking the candles off one by one.

“There’s so many!”

Bev and Ben both burst out laughing at the wide eyed expression their daughter wore while she tossed all the candles to the side, making sure to lick each one clean first. It would probably be another ten minutes before they were even able to cut into the cake, but for these happy moments, Richie wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

Which is exactly how he felt an hour and two pieces of cake later, while his niece slept peacefully in his arms. He had moved to the couch some time ago and a short while after, Willow had climbed into his lap and promptly crashed from her sugar high. Her head was resting on his shoulder and he could hear her soft snoring the whole time. 

Ben sat down beside him on the couch, looking over at him and gesturing to his daughter. “I can take her and put her down if you want.”

Richie feigned a gasp and put a hand on the back of her head to cradle her head against his shoulder. He jokingly leaned away with her, “Ben, how dare you!” he whisper-yelled, “She’s your daughter! You can’t put her down!”

“Hardy har, har,” Ben deadpanned laughed, rolling his eyes but smiling nonetheless. 

A quiet moment passed between them after the laughter died down. Richie smoothed down Willow’s red curls idly, smiling as she snuggled closer to him. Richie felt a deep pull in his chest, a sense of longing that pulsed through him. He stole a glance over in Ben’s direction. “Do you enjoy being a dad?” he asked curiously, though he already figured the answer.

"I wouldn't trade it for the world," Ben smiled, a small quirk of his lips that told Richie how bad he felt telling the truth. “It has its ups and downs, but I honestly love Willow more than I love myself most days so…” he trailed off in a light chuckle, patting Richie’s knee. 

He could pick up on Richie’s obvious contemplation, so he continued, “It’s a lot of hard work. I don’t think I could have done it before I was ready and it took me a long time to be ready.” He looked up to meet Richie’s gaze in a meaningful stare, trying to put some emphasis behind his words. “It’s never too late, Richie.”

Richie let out an unexpected groan, covering his face and shaking his head. “God, did Bev put you up to that? Did she make you say that?”

Ben cackled at his exasperation, wearing a wide grin as he shook his head back and forth. 

“She said the exact same fucking thing to me earlier today,” Richie hissed, his voice gaining just enough volume to cause the child in his arms to stir softly. 

“Uncle Richie, that’s a bad word,” she mumbled sleepily, rubbing her tiny fists against her eyes.

“You’re right, pumpkin,” he replied automatically, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to her forehead. These moments made Richie regret the choices he made all those years ago, but he was slowly beginning to realize that he couldn’t live in the past any longer. He was getting too old for that shit. At this point, all he could do was learn to live with the consequences of his actions and find a way to move forward. 

He sat on the couch, Willow still asleep in his arms, for a while until it got too late. Bev and Ben had offered him their spare room, but he insisted on returning home, declaring that a late night walk would be a breath of fresh air. In reality, his mind was stuffed full of thoughts and emotions that he could barely comprehend. Among them was a fair amount of apprehension as he mulled over his next move; he had to prepare himself for the possibility that his presence might not be welcome. 

He would have to shove all that aside in the morning when he called the adoption agency. 


	2. Chapter 2

_ " _ **_Eddie_ ** _!" _

_ The excited cry came from his husband as he barreled down the hallway and into the bedroom. Eddie was still tucked under the covers and very much asleep when Nathan flew onto their bed. He woke with a jolt, sucking in a deep breath as he brought his hand up to rub his eyes. _

_ "Eddie, c'mon, wake up!" _

_ With an exasperated groan, Eddie eased himself into a sitting position against the headboard and looked at his husband with an expectant look. "What is it, my love?" He asked, lips pulled into a tight smile. _

_ Nathan was grinning ear to ear as he reached forward to cup Eddie's cheeks and press their lips together in an eager kiss. He pulled back to rest his forehead against Eddie's, unable to help the happy laugh that escaped from deep in his chest. "She had the baby! Eddie, our son was born!" _

_ Eddie's jaw dropped as he felt all the air leave his lungs. "What?" He whispered, not because he hadn't heard what his husband had said, but because he could hardly believe it. "We're parents?" He could feel the tears welling up in his tears as he spoke these words, ones he had waited years to speak.  _

_ "Yeah!" Nathan exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically and pulling Eddie into his arms. He stroked his fingers over the blonde curls at the base of his neck, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "We're parents." _

_ Eddie could feel his resolve crumbling and he knew he couldn't keep it in any longer; he let out an elated sob, clinging tighter to his husband. He couldn't believe the day was finally here. The thought of getting to meet their son soon made his heart race with exhilaration and his hands shake with nerves.  _

_ His fingers curled in the fabric of his husband's t-shirt, trying to ground himself to reality. They were about to be parents and he was absolutely thrilled and terrified all at the same time.  _

Eddie woke with the most bittersweet feeling tugging at each and every last one of his heart strings. Today was the day. It made his chest swell with pride, but also brought him a sliver of despair to think about celebrating his son's 16th birthday without his husband. It wasn't the first since his passing, not by far; this one, though, felt different. There was something about a 16th birthday that felt like a milestone. Eddie had just about burst into tears when he took Griffin to get his driver's permit just last year and now, he would be taking him in for his driver's test soon. It was hard to wrap his mind around the concept; he was growing up fast, right before Eddie's eyes. It killed him to think Nathan would never get to witness it all. 

When Nathan passed, Eddie felt like the world would stop turning and that time would cease to exist. At least the first few days felt like that. When it had felt just too impossible to drag himself out of bed, Griffin gave him a reason. His friends gave him plenty of support in light of the worst moment of his life, but caring for his son gave him a reason to keep going. He knew what it felt like to lose a father, so he knew how strongly his son must be hurting and he wanted to do everything in his power to help. He couldn't automatically make things better, but they would heal. Over time, they found the world started turning again and time started to pass. 

He blinked and Griffin became a teenager. Blinked again and it was Griffin's first day of high school. And now he was turning 16 years old. He knew how proud Nathan would be of their son and the thought brought a fond smile to his face, dulling the ache of missing him for a split second. Before he could dwell any longer, he rolled out of bed and slipped his feet into the slippers waiting on the floor. He tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, as well as a few stray tears that had gathered there; it was a futile mission. 

He entered the kitchen and immediately turned on the coffee pot before bouncing around the room to gather ingredients. They had a tradition in their household, established by Nathan before Griffin was even born. The birthday boy always got his favorite birthday meal; it was simple, yet extremely meaningful. The perfect way to start the day. They still adhered to this tradition on Nathan's birthday too, spending an hour in the kitchen together making Nathan's favorite; it was a complicated spinach and cheese souffle that they rarely managed to prepare successfully, but they always laughed their way through it. Then, they would sit down and enjoy it together, whether it was edible or not.

He whisked the bowl of batter to make his famous pancakes as he listened to his trusty coffee pot sputter out a pot of joe. It struggled, as it did most mornings, making a heavy whirring sound before going silent as it spurted out the last bit of liquid. He knew he should throw it out and get a new one-one that actually worked effectively-but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. The machine was older than his son, gifted to him by Nathan for one their first anniversaries. He couldn't just let that go. 

Perhaps that was his biggest issue. 

His complete and total inability to let things go. He held onto them much longer than most people would and far longer than necessary. In fact, he’d been told countless times that this was the reason he and his mother hadn't spoken in years. He had lost out on multiple promotions because of shit he couldn't let go. 

He had a multitude of things weighing him down, strapped to his ankles and threatening to pull him under. The past five years had been spent with his head barely above water, submerged briefly by each unexpected wave that crashed over him on its retreat to shore. He longed to be standing on that same shore, but he feared that he would never make it, destined to spend the rest of his life out at sea. 

Luckily, he didn't have long to dwell on this as he heard the sound of Griffin's footsteps coming down the stairs. He immediately rushed over to the entrance of the kitchen and let out an excited, "Here comes the birthday boy!" 

A moment later, Griffin rounded the corner with a slight chuckle, "Mornin' dad." He ruffled his hand through his dark, messy hair, trying to smooth out his bedhead as he moved over to the stools at the island. He took a seat on one, opposite of the kitchen counter where Eddie was still preparing breakfast. With a yawn, he pushed his glasses up with his fist to rub over his eye, trying his hardest to fully wake up.

"How's it feel to be 16?" Eddie asked with a cheesy grin, pouring some pancake batter onto the griddle. "The big one six. Sweet sixteen."

"I get it, I get it," Griffin laughed, shrugging his shoulders casually. "It doesn't really feel much different, to be honest."

"Well, it will!" Eddie assured him while pouring him a glass of orange juice. "Once you get your license, you'll definitely feel it. Speaking of, are we still on for that today after school?" Eddie knew that was the plan; it had been for weeks, months even. But he was trying to play it cool, act like it was not a big deal at all, despite all the time and energy he put into agonizing over it. 

"I can't," Griffin replied, setting down his glass after taking a sip. "I have a debate."

“Oh, okay,” Eddie tried his best to hide the disappointment he could feel weighing his features down. He put on a smile, but one quick glance could easily reveal it to be a facade. He had been waiting years for this day to come; it felt weird that it wasn’t coming to be like he had planned it out in his head. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t his timeline in play here. It wasn’t his decision, it was Griffin’s and he had to respect that. 

“I originally wasn’t gonna go, but then I found out that Blair was going so…” Griffin trailed off, his cheeks flushing a soft pink as he ducked his head to hide the smile inching its way onto his lips. 

“Oh,” Eddie said softly, nodding his head in slow realization, “ _ Oh. _ ” His son had his first crush; sure, he’d had a handful of them over the course of his life, but this was his first  _ real  _ crush. He could tell. It wasn’t just a pulling pigtails in the schoolyard kind of crush. “Yeah, we can totally go another time. You gotta spend time with your lady.”

“Ugh,  _ daaaad _ ,” Griffin groaned and buried his face in his hands, shaking his head adamantly in denial. “She’s not  _ ‘my lady’ _ . She’s way out of my league.”

“Any girl would be lucky to have you,” Eddie told him in a firm, matter of fact way as he set a plate of pancakes down in front of him. “You should invite her to your party tonight!”

Griffin gave Eddie  _ a look,  _ an exasperated expression that every parent on the face of the Earth was familiar with. Hell, even parents outside of Earth probably were, too. It was a look like Eddie had just said the dumbest thing in the world. "A girl like Blair isn't going to go to a  _ birthday party _ ." 

Eddie's face scrunched up in confusion at the way his son had said "birthday party", almost accompanied with a shudder, like he had just uttered a dirty word. But he had to shake it off, play it like hours of his hard work and planning hadn't been  _ dissed,  _ as the kids say. "Well that is her loss because it's going to be tons of fun!"

Griffin let out another chuckle, but it wasn't a mocking type laugh. It was a genuine, fond laugh. "I know, dad. Your party's always are."

With a plate of his own, Eddie sat down next to his son and the two of them are in silence for some time before eventually Griffin looked over at him thoughtfully. "You should invite someone, dad."

"What?" He sputtered out, nearly choking on his bite of pancake. He took a generous gulp of his coffee go wash it down and met Griffin's gaze with an incredulous look. 

"What do you mean  _ what _ ?" He questioned, his expression softening. "It's been five years. You deserve to be happy."

"Who says I'm not happy?" Eddie replied, but his words lacked a certain amount of conviction. There was none. He couldn't even convince himself that there was truth behind his words. 

"You know what I mean, Dad."

Eddie sighed. Because he did. In the five years since Nathan's passing, Eddie had thought about it frequently. What moving on would look like, what life after his husband would entail. But every time he dwelled on it for more than a second, he became overwhelmed with guilt. Nathan was the father of his child, how was he supposed to just "move on" from that? 

"I know, Griff," he replied gently, "But I'm okay, I promise. You don't need to worry about me."

Griffin regarded him, almost suspiciously, but after a minute, he returned to his pancakes with an unconvinced, "Okaaaay."

Eddie chuckled fondly, because he saw so much of Nathan in their son. The two of them finished breakfast mostly in silence, engaging in some small talk here and there. Eddie offered to drive Griffin to school, but apparently he already had a ride.

His friend, Avery, had just gotten his license a few weeks prior and on his birthday, which was just days before Griffin's, his parents bought him a brand new car. He was a sweet boy and had been friends with Griffin since they were in kindergarten, but how in the world was Eddie supposed to compete with a brand new car? His parents were never around though, so he could take solace in that, that at least he was there for Griffin and he always would be.

_ The drive to the hospital was just under two hours and Eddie felt like every single one of those one hundred seventeen minutes lasted for an eternity. If he were to list every emotion he was experiencing, well it would probably take the entire trip to finish. He felt like he could barely breathe from all the excitement and exhilaration racing through him. Their child had entered the world, and it was crazy to think that they would not only get to meet him, but take him home as well. They'd been planning and prepping for months and the day had finally arrived.  _

_ Nathan's fingers were tightly laced with his own as he drove, which Eddie was beyond grateful for because he was in no condition to operate a vehicle at the moment. His hands were shaking with an intensity he'd witnessed only one other time, when he came out to his mom. He'd been petrified back then and he was now, but this time he had the best reason to be. It was a good scared. _

_ They met their caseworker inside the hospital, at the nursery; Eddie peered through the giant glass window that looked inside for a moment, then forced himself to direct his attention to the middle aged woman standing in front of them. It was then that he noticed the solemn look on her face and his stomach immediately dropped. In the numerous times they'd met with Karen, she had always seemed to be happy and bright, always wearing a smile. But now, she appeared the polar opposite. _

_ Eddie could feel tears springing to his eyes as he braced for the worst case scenario. He always did. Jump to conclusions and assume the absolute worst would happen in any given situation. It wasn't the best, but he was never disappointed. He could drown in the waves of disappointment he felt right then. Nathan grabbed his hand and gave it a tight squeeze, providing the anchor he needed to keep himself afloat.  _

_ "The baby has been cleared medically. It's completely healthy and can be discharged whenever," she informed them, "The mother has already signed away her parental rights. But the father has not yet." _

_ Eddie shakily exhaled the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and fought to keep the tears of worry from spilling. "Why hasn't he? I thought both the mother and the father were on the same page adoption-wise." _

_ She nodded empathetically, "They have been. I haven't heard a single thing about either of them regretting that decision. But it is a big one to make and occasionally, after physically seeing their child, it becomes difficult for them to give him or her up for adoption after all." _

_ Nathan, always the one to hold things together, nodded in understanding, stroking his thumb across the back of Eddie's hand. "Yeah, that makes sense. It must be a really tough call to make." _

_ "Why don't you two take a moment to yourselves and I will go see if I can find anything else out for you, okay?" _

_ The second their caseworker walked away, Eddie turned to Nathan and immediately buried himself in his open, waiting arms. Nathan wrapped them tightly around Eddie, holding him close as he felt Eddie let out a sob. _

_ "What if the father backs out?" He questioned, barely able to choke out the words.  _

_ "Everything gonna be okay, Eddie. I promise. Everything’s gonna work out," Nathan assured him while rubbing a comforting hand over his back. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "You know, we can probably find out which one is him." _

_ Eddie shook his head adamantly, wiping his eyes before looking up at Nathan. "I can't," he whispered, "I know that I'm going to fall in love with him the second I see him. And if I do, and I don't get to take him home…" Eddie trailed off as more tears trickled down his cheeks. "I couldn't do that, Nathan. It would break my heart." _

_ Nathan pulled him back in and for a moment, just held him, knowing there wasn't anything he could say to make this any easier. "Why don't we go grab some coffee?" He suggested after a minute.  _

_ They sat in the cafeteria for forty seven minutes, but it felt like hours had passed. For most of that time, they sat with their hands tightly clasped together, sipping on subpar cafeteria coffee as they waited and agonized over what would happen. Finally, in that forty-eighth minute, Nathan's phone began to buzz where it rested on the table. Seeing their caseworkers name light up across the screen, Eddie couldn't help himself from grabbing Nathan's phone and answering it before he could.  _

_ "Are you two ready to meet your son?" _

_ A teary exhale of relief escaped from his lips and he brought his hand up to cover his mouth as a sob rolled through him. "The father signed?" _

_ "The father signed away his rights," she replied, sounding now like she had her signature smile on. "You two are free to take him home." _

_ After Eddie hung up the phone, it took the two of them approximately three minutes to throw away their coffees and make their way back to the nursery. There was a nurse waiting to escort them back and Eddie could feel his heart pounding in his chest.  _

_ "Here he is," the nurse said with a smile, gently scooping up the little blue bundle. "Who's gonna hold him first?" _

_ "Go ahead," Nathan whispered, lightly nudging Eddie with his elbow and smiling tearfully over at him.  _

_ Eddie quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks and then off on his jacket before holding his arms out. His lips curved up in a wide grin as the baby was placed in his arms; he rocked him and shushed him gently when he made a cooing sound of protest at the movement. Otherwise, the baby settled in his arms, wrapped up in a soft blue blanket that brought attention to how bright his eyes were.  _

_ "He's so perfect," Eddie whispered, completely captivated. He was never a believer in love at first sight; it always felt like such a ludacris concept to him. How could anyone fall in love like that? Seeing his son for the first time, Eddie took back a lifetime of doubt.  _

_ In that moment, Eddie was sure he would never love anything as strongly as he loved his son. Just a couple days old and he already had Eddie wrapped around his tiny little finger.  _

_ He brushed his thumb ever so lightly across the baby's round cheek. "Such chubby little cheeks," Eddie laughed happily.  _

_ "Yeah," Nathan agreed, leaning into Eddie and wrapping his arm around the one Eddie was using to support the baby's head. "And the most beautiful blue eyes." _

_ "I can't believe this is real," Eddie murmured softly, his eyes transfixed on the baby in his arms. They both watched as he blinked slowly up at them, eyes eventually slipping shut. "I know we've been waiting for this moment but I just...I can't believe it. This is our son." _

_ "Yeah," Nathan nodded in agreement, leaning forward to press a kiss to Eddie's temple. "Let's take our son home." _

Eddie would do anything for his son, there was no doubt about that. But single-handedly planning and preparing a birthday party was no small feat; he was at his wit’s end and about ready to rip his hair out. It was just one stress after another, one problem that he was the sole fixer of. But problem solving wasn’t exactly his forte. He analyzed risks for a living. If anything, he should have been able to see the potential risks before they manifested into problems. Thankfully, he had a good friend who specialized in problem solving. 

Eddie was beyond thrilled to answer the door when he heard his friend's rhythmic knocking. "Stan, thank you so much. You are literally saving my life right now," Eddie said immediately as he opened the door and reached forward to grab the shallow box held out in front of him, or rather in front of the carrier strapped to his chest. 

"And with a baby strapped to you on top of everything else!" Eddie exclaimed as he led Stan into his absolute mess of a kitchen. He hastily cleared some room on the counter so Stan could hoist up the multiple bags tucked in his arms. 

Stan offered a soft chuckle, "It's really no trouble at all, Eddie."

Eddie set the box (which contained the cake he ordered after he ruined the one he attempted to bake himself) down and began making room to fit it in the fridge. "Seriously, I don't know how you do it."

"Well for starters, I have help," Stan answered, not in a bragging manner or out of pity, but simply knowingly. " _ You  _ are trying to do everything by yourself." 

"You know what they always say," Eddie trailed off, as if it was unnecessary to clarify what they always said. Stan was more than capable of reading between the lines. Eddie seemed to stomp on his point when he continued to unsuccessfully shove the cake box into the fridge. 

Stan stepped forward and pointedly moved a couple things around, creating just enough space for the box to slide in with ease. His smugness was more than evident in both the look he gave Eddie and what he said next. "You can accomplish anything with a friend by your side? Two is better than one?"

"Okay, ha, ha, you made your point," Eddie said dryly, giving Stan a look that was sure to kill, but quickly softened after he considered everything Stan had just done for him.

"But seriously, Eddie, I'm really glad you called," Stan responded sincerely, his hand coming up to naturally rest on the front of the carrier. He patted it a few times in response to the soft babbling from the baby tucked inside. 

Elias, the newest addition to the Hanlon family, was just shy of a year and easily the happiest baby he'd ever encountered; there wasn't a single occasion Eddie could recall of the child crying or making any kind of distraught noises. Stan, though, was always quick to assure him that was  _ not  _ always the case. 

Eddie's eyes were wide and lips parted in a big smile as Elias held onto each of his index fingers. He was shrieking with giggles and kicking his legs happily. 

Stan chuckled fondly at the sight and scooped Elias out of his carrier, handing him off to Eddie. He watched Eddie's face light up as he walked around the kitchen and bounced the baby on his hip. 

"I'm worried about you."

"What? Me? No! There's no need to be worried about me. No, there isn’t. Not at all!” Eddie exclaimed, speaking directly to Elias in his baby talk voice. He shook his head as he kept his eyes on the baby, who kept reaching up to try and grab his lip. It was much easier to hide behind the facade of casualty because how could anyone take someone serious when they were baby talking like that?

Stan sighed in defeat and began unpacking the bags on the counter. "You don't have to do it all alone, you know that right?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, letting Elias grab onto one of his fingers as he continued bouncing him around. "God, you and Griffin both," he grumbled, "I'm doing okay, Stan. Really."

It was more than obvious by the look on Stan's face that he wanted to persist, wanted to argue the point even further, but he held back. Instead, he let out a faint chuckle; it wasn't an actual laugh so much as a forced huff of air. "Yeah, well not on this party. This is kinda sad, Eddie."

Finally, Eddie's demeanor softened and a bark of laughter forced itself from his lips. "That's why I called you! This is a disaster!"

"Don't worry," Stan said, laughing along with him. "We'll get through this together."

Somehow-Eddie wasn't quite sure how exactly-they managed to get through it and in the process, set up a rockin' birthday party, if Eddie said so himself. The decorations were fun, without being too cheesy or juvenile; the menu consisted of all of Griffin's favorites; Eddie had made an assortment of drinks, mocktails and cocktails alike. The music hung in the background, an easy playlist flowing through the speakers as all the party guests mingled around the living room and dining room. 

Eddie found himself along the outskirts of the kitchen, a red cup in his hand, full of a mixture that was primarily rum. He had set up a successful birthday party for his son; he deserved to have a drink, maybe even two if he felt like it. Mike and Bill were ensuring that Stan also got the drink he deserved by watching Elias, who was having a great time interacting with all the other party goers. They all joked that he took after Mike the most with his clear interest in people and Stan the least for that same reason. 

Eddie meandered out into the living room, chatting idly with people in passing as they commented on what a lovely party it was and what a great time they were having. He surveyed the area and eyeballed the ratio of adults to teenagers at the party, deeming it much to high for a sweet sixteen. But the list of guests Griffin had given him hadn’t been a long one and for most of his life, his son had seemed to prefer the close company of a few. Quality over quantity, he’d declared a handful of times before. 

So he had invited Avery, of course. The boy was practically attached at the hip with his son and spent plenty of time at their house, so he didn’t have to be home alone while his parents were out of town. He also invited Camila, another member of the Hanlon household, who had grown up with her son as well. The three of them were practically inseparable. Eddie smiled as he watched them interacting, chatting and laughing together. 

His attention shifted to where the front door was opening, without the sound of a knock preceding it. He watched intently as a teenage girl walked into the entryway and into the living room like she owned the place. Confusion and annoyance tugged his lips downwards as he tried to identify this girl; he surely hadn’t invited her and he’d never seen her before. But the way Griffin’s face lit up upon her arrival gave him all the answers he needed. She must be Blair, the crush his son seemed to be harboring recently. Something about her put Eddie off, perhaps the way she walked into his home without even so much as knocking. 

Before he could go over and introduce himself, his path was blocked by a tall, familiar looking man. His hair was buzzed, his eyes were the softest brown, and he flashed a dazzling smile full of perfect teeth. He was the epitome of handsome and Eddie was sure he’d seen him multiple times before.

“Hi…” he began, trailing off in uncertainty, using a tone that was open ended enough to dig for an answer. 

“Craig, Craig Daniels,” he answered, his hand shooting out to meet Eddie’s in a brief handshake.

“Oh!” Eddie exclaimed, his face lighting up in realization. The reason this man looked so familiar was because he was Griffin’s swim coach and he’d gone to countless swim meets over the years. Craig, Mr. Daniels as he’d only ever known him as, was a great coach and a kind man, always pushing the kids for success but never at the expense of their well-being. Admittedly, Eddie had always found the man highly attractive and fought to keep the crush he developed at bay. He’d never once admitted it out loud, keeping it to himself so why he was here tonight was beyond him?

“How are you doing?” Eddie asked dumbly. He could barely keep his jaw from dropping and the stars from shining in his eyes. 

Craig offered a soft laugh, nodding his head as he continued wearing the same pearly white smile. “I’m doing great. Thank you so much for having me tonight.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Eddie fumbled to choke out, breaking off into a sigh, “You’ll have to forgive me, I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“That’s quite alright,” Craig replied with a chuckle and Eddie melted at the slight Southern twang to his voice. “Griffin invited me today. I hope that’s not weird.”

Eddie adamantly shook his head, unable to keep the smile off his face. The one the other man wore was positively beaming and completely contagious. “No, no, not at all! Happy to have you here. You wanna grab a drink?”

The two of them chatted for most of the night, sharing a few drinks together and enjoying each other’s company. Towards the end of the party, they exchanged numbers before Craig slipped out, giving Griffin a quick pat on his back and wishing him a happy birthday on his way. For the first time in a long time, Eddie felt butterflies fluttering around in his stomach and a deep blush rising to his cheeks.

“Looks like both of our crushes showed up,” Griffin chirped smugly after they had shown the last of the party guests out.

Eddie, who was busying himself with the task of cleaning up, played dumb, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon, Dad,” he scoffed, grabbing the garbage bag from Eddie and holding it open for him. “I’ve seen the way you look at Mr. Daniels. You know, it’s okay to have feelings for someone.”

Eddie sighed and smiled softly up at his son, “So I’ve heard.” He paused for a moment as he funneled more plates with half eaten cake slices into the garbage. “Blair showed up, huh?”

Griffin beamed, nodding eagerly, “Yeah! I couldn’t believe it either! She said the party was so cute and a ‘total throwback’ to childhood,” he said, complete with air quotes. “She said she wants a party just like it for her next birthday.”

Eddie wasn’t necessarily familiar with the term in its entirety, but the look on Griffin’s face told him everything he needed to know. All that mattered was that his son was happy. “So it was a pretty good birthday after all?”

Griffin flashed a cheesy grin, one that reminded Eddie of his late husband, “Definitely!”

Eddie smiled and shooed Griffin away, snatching the bag from his grip while muttering something about how he shouldn’t have to clean on his birthday and that Avery was in his room waiting. Griffin gave him a big hug and wished him a goodnight before disappearing upstairs. 

Eddie contemplated finishing the rest of the clean up in the morning; all that remained was the kitchen, but that was the biggest mess of all and who in their right mind wanted to clean on a Saturday morning? So Eddie persevered and continued cleaning until the kitchen was just as clean as the living room, then retired to bed for the evening.

He wouldn’t realize what a smart decision he had made to finish up until the morning when he would be awoken by a call from the adoption agency, leaving him the contact info for Richie Tozier. The name belonged to Griffin’s biological father, who now, after exactly sixteen years, wanted to meet his son. 


	3. Chapter 3

Richie woke up bitter. The feeling settled heavy in his gut, weighing him down and anchoring him to his bed. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence; in fact, he seemed to be plagued by it most mornings. Typically, it would manifest from a general lack of motivation or desire to get out of bed. 

But today, it came from a dream. The kind that appeared too vivid, felt too substantial to be anything other than reality. It took place within a quaint, suburban home, complete with a white picket fence. On the top floor, there was a nursery. The walls were painted a pastel green and the crib was made of a complementary golden oak. Laying on top of the patterned sheets was a newborn boy who had eyes the color of the ocean and hair the color of the dirt on the shore.

Richie stood beside the crib, peeking over the edge and watching his son sleep peacefully. He’d never felt  _ more _ in his life. Content. Happy. Blessed. Nothing brought him more comfort than being able to hear his son’s soft breathing and see the steady rise and fall of his chest. There was no doubt in Richie's mind. No moment could or would ever beat this one. 

And then he woke up. 

The aching void he felt deep within grew in size and it tore him open just a little further. Twelve days had passed. Almost two weeks had crept by since he made what he considered to be the biggest leap he'd ever taken. Calling the adoption agency had taken all the courage he had. 

But he did it. 

Now, he agonized over it. 

Why hadn't he been contacted yet? When he left his information with the agent there, they assured him the adoption wasn't a closed one, meaning the adoptive parents were open to the idea of them meeting. Richie wondered if there was a statute of limitations on that; maybe they didn't mind the thought, but only within the first few years. 

He tried to consider it from their point of view. Sixteen years was a long time and the timing itself must feel sudden to them. What a shock it must be to hear from their child's birth father out of the blue like this. Doubt slowly wormed its way into every crack in Richie's psyche. But it was done. No taking it back now. All Richie could do was try to stave off the new cycle of regret that was bound to set in sooner rather than later. 

He stumbled out of bed; it was an ungodly hour, but he couldn't risk falling back asleep. On his way to the bathroom, he stripped out of his boxers and t-shirt, tossing them at the overflowing hamper that stood in the corner. Neither item made it. 

Did he care? No. That was a problem for another time. Maybe that was his problem, always pushing things aside and vowing to fix them later. He decided not to dwell on it right now because showers were a breeding ground for existential crises and he just couldn't afford another one of those at the moment. 

So he showered. Let the hot water wash over his skin, turning it a soft pink from the temperature. He knew it probably wasn't the best habit he had, to slightly burn himself every time he showered, but it certainly wasn't his worst either. He tried his damndest to keep his mind free of the thoughts troubling him. 

He failed.

It was all he could think about. By the time he was stepping out of the shower, he had convinced himself that he would never hear back from the adoptive parents and he would surely never meet his son. Sure, he'd held him when he was barely a day old but it was hard to consider that meeting him. Back then, he was tiny and helpless; now, he was a real person, with thoughts and opinions. 

Richie was dying to meet the person his son became and starting to believe he may never get to. 

But when he returned to his room and checked his phone, there was a missed call from an unknown number, along with a message. Richie didn't want to allow himself the excitement of wondering what if, but who even made phone calls anymore? Much less leave a message. This had to be it. 

Only one way to find out, he told himself as he exhaled a shaky breath and dialed his voicemail. He began pacing around the room, feet kicking randomly items scattered all over his floor. His heart began to race. 

"Hello. This message is for Richard Tozier. My name is Edward Kaspbrak. I got your number from the Sunrise Adoption Agency. It's my understanding that-" The man on the other end of the line sounded almost robotic up until then, when his voice seemed to falter, "-you are Griffin's biological father. And you're interested in meeting him. Please call me back at your earliest convenience. You can reach me on my cell, or my work number is-"

Richie scrambled over to his dresser where he knew there was a pen somewhere beneath all the random papers of failed skits and ignored mail. The mess was just convenient enough that he was able to scribble the number down right as the message ended. 

_ Griffin. _ It felt surreal to even just know his son’s name. It was different, definitely something he hadn’t heard often in his life and he liked that. Richie didn’t know anything about him, but he liked the idea that he-Griffin-was unique; from the brief moments he spent with his son as an infant, he knew he was truly one of a kind. 

He stared down at the number incredulously, ten digits of possibility. Another five minutes or so passed before he finally worked up the courage to dial the number. 

"Eddie Kaspbrak speaking."

"Hi, Eddie. Um,  _ Mr. Kaspbrak.  _ This is Richie. Tozier. Returning your call. I uh, I got your message." Richie cringed; he had to physically resist the urge to groan aloud at how stupid he must've sounded. 

"Oh, yes, hello Mr. Tozier," Eddie said in return, sounding more than a little caught off guard. He tried to hide his surprise with a little cough at the end but it didn't help.

Again, Richie had to sympathize because this whole situation must be jarring, to say the least. 

"I know this must be a lot-"

"I'd like to meet you first," Eddie declared suddenly, cutting off whatever sentiment Richie was about to offer. “Before you meet my-your- _ our  _ son,” he finished with a stammer, his tone sounding more questioning than anything. 

"Um, yeah, of course!" Richie exclaimed. He nodded his head along with his agreement as if Eddie could see beyond the phone call. 

"Whatever you wanna do, you call the shots here. I'm just so glad you called. I wasn't really expecting it to be honest. I know this is so sudden, you must be wondering why I reached out after all this time. I have a ton of questions myself." Richie knew he was coming on too strong, he felt it. But he could also feel the excitement of possibility thrumming beneath his skin and containing it seemed almost impossible and definitely improbable. 

"I can imagine," came Eddie's voice from the other line. "I can answer whatever questions you have at our meeting. I have quite a few myself. Are you still in the area?"

"Yeah! Well, sorta," Richie's enthusiasm downgraded as he recalled his relocation a few years after his son's birth. He assumed "the area" referred to the east side of Maine, which was in fact true. "I live up in Bangor now. Are you in the area? I'm assuming you still are. I guess that's kinda presumptuous, maybe you guys moved for your job, or your husband's, I don't know." 

Eddie’s breath hitched at the mention of his partner. He thought about Nathan a thousand times a day and yet, it always felt different when someone else brought him up. He waited patiently for Richie to finish his long-winded rambling before replying, "Yes, I still live in Lewiston. Would you be interested in meeting at the halfway point?"

"Yeah! We can totally do that. When's a good time for you? Maybe sometime next wee-"

"Tonight," Eddie cut in, his voice firm and decisive, before faltering slightly, "If you're free, I'd like to meet up tonight."

"Um, okay. Sure, yeah, I can do tonight," Richie replied, but surely his answer didn't inspire any confidence. He just wasn't expecting this call to begin with and now, all of a sudden, they were going to meet up tonight, in a matter of hours. He assumed he'd have a few days  _ minimum  _ to freak out over this. Luckily for him, he was an expert in panic and could squeeze a days long breakdown into a few hours. Not like he had any plans to be productive anyways. "Just text me a time and address and I'll be there."

_ 5 o'clock. Aroma Joe's Coffee. _

Richie rolled in just after four o'clock. He wasn't always known for being particularly punctual, but he was known for being particularly anxious and the thought of making a poor first impression by arriving late ensured his timely arrival. If  _ timely arrival  _ meant sitting in his car for almost an hour, then so be it. 

He debated going inside. Maybe that was marginally less weird than sitting in his car and flicking his attention back and forth between the little coffee shop they were meeting at and the entrance of the parking lot. Each new car that pulled in made his heart jump up into his throat. He knew the meeting would be life changing, regardless of the outcome, if he met his son or not. 

But thinking about the consequences of the latter wouldn’t serve him well in the moment; it would do him no good to dwell on the possibility that this would end exactly where he began, alone and unsatisfied in life. The outcome was uncertain to say the least, and that terrified Richie to his very core.

His apprehension brought his gaze down to the half smoked cigarette resting in the ashtray. Who knows how long it’d been there? He’d spent the last few years trying with all his might to quit, to no avail. He had only ever been half successful. 

He was just contemplating lighting it up when a black, a four door sedan pulled into a spot adjacent to him. His heart stopped altogether now. Squinting his eyes, he peered into the window of the other car and noted a middle aged man. He had sandy blonde hair, impeccably coiffed with not a single strand out of place and a handful of wrinkles on his face, not created by age but rather by experience. While he looked like a clean cut guy, it was obvious he'd been through some shit. He just had that look to him.

He wore a suit that looked like something Richie would reserve for his funeral, or maybe something he’d wear to a funeral. Somewhere there had to be a funeral involved because where else would somewhere wear a black three piece suit, complete with a black tie? That wasn’t actually something people wore on a daily basis. 

Richie watched the man unbuckle himself and attempt to strip himself of his jacket. It ended in a frantic flailing of his arms, the jacket flying into the passenger seat. Frustration didn’t appear to be driving the frantic movements; there seemed to be something else lingering in his bones. It surfaced as his hands moved to bang against the steering wheel. 

The other man’s lips parted suddenly and he let out an unrestrained yell. It was muffled, but Richie could vaguely hear the sound from his own car. Something told him to look away. Like a trainwreck though, he just couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the other man and what appeared to be his impending breakdown. It should’ve been a private moment, but that’s what you get for falling apart in the middle of a parking lot. 

A second later, any sounds of his continued shouting were drowned out by the sudden onslaught of heavy guitar and aggressive vocals. Richie blinked in confusion, caught off guard by the music that was honestly more screaming than actual singing. 

The other guy continued to bang his fists against the steering wheel and shout beneath the soundtrack of heavy metal. It was almost comical of a sight to witness, this IRS wannabe looking guy mouthing along with the words to a song he’d clearly heard many times before. Richie only felt slightly guilty at the chuckle to escape from his lips. It was funnier than any SNL skit he’d seen before to think about the fact that this seemed to be a common happening for the other man. He could write for hours and still not produce anything nearly as funny as what appeared to be a straight arrow, clean cut type of guy screaming it out to heavy metal in a coffee shop's parking lot. 

But what was even funnier was the fact that all of a sudden, the music cut off and the man immediately composed himself. Like the flip of a switch, he went from obvious upset to complete neutrality. Richie was really more impressed than anything else. 

Richie watched him exit his vehicle, briefly ducking his head to avoid detection, then looked back up just in time to see him entering the coffee shop. A feeling crept up from his fingertips and created a knot of tension in the back of his neck. 

It was realization. 

Was that man Eddie Kaspbrak? Was that the man he was here to meet? The father of his son. Whatever it was that he had just witnessed, if that was indeed him, now he was infinitely more apprehensive about the meeting. Because clearly, he had less than favorable feelings about this impending interaction. 

Richie knew he could remain in his car for the remainder of the time he had left, but it would only lead to more contemplation and he wasn't convinced that was the best thing for him at the moment. He needed to just do it. Maybe that man wasn't Eddie Kaspbrak and the real one was far more positive than the fake one. 

Only one way to find out though. 

Time to rip the band-aid, Richie thought as he got out of his car and straightened his jacket. He really wished now that he had smoked that little half cigarette. But at least it would be there if things went horribly. 

Eddie took a seat at an empty table by the window. It was hard for him to imagine the biological father of his child sitting in the chair across from him. Somehow the open space of the coffee shop felt suffocating; the twenty seven inches between them suddenly didn’t feel like enough. He set his mug of tea down on the table, ignoring the way it clattered against the little plate it sat on. His hands were shaking. His leg bounced anxiously. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get either to still.

With focused care and precision, he tugged a tea bag free from its package and released the string connected to it. His eyes fixed on the water as he submerged the tea bag; it came to life in a beautiful swirl of color, hues of soft red contrasting well against the white mug. It offered him comfort. A distraction from his current nerves. He grabbed the jar of sugar and sprinkled some into his drink, then took the spoon to slowly stir it in. Eddie found himself lost in the rhythmic clink of the spoon against the inside of the mug. It seemed to temporarily drown out the static in his mind and the noise around him as well. 

Through the muted atmosphere, the distinct sound from the door chime rang out above everything. It made Eddie perk up immediately. In through the door walked a tall man; he had a headful of dark curls and a pair of thick glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. Eddie felt the breath he was inhaling cut short at the sight. Realization came quick. In fact, it hit him in an instant. 

“Richie?” The name spewed from his lips before he could do anything else. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting the biological father of his son to look like; he assumed they would share a trait or two, which they clearly did. But still, it surprised him to see a decently put together man. He vaguely resembled that SNL actor who he had always found oddly attractive, in a goofy, approachable kind of way. Nathan had always given him crap for it.

"Yeah, that's me!" The man exclaimed, lunging forward with an outstretched hand. He knocked into the empty chair at the table, causing it to rumble. 

Eddie stabilized his mug to keep the tea from spilling over and then stood up to shake the hand of his son’s biological father, Richie. Something he never thought he’d do in his lifetime. It lasted far too long, in Eddie’s opinion. A good handshake should be firm and last approximately 3-5 seconds. This one was loose and fumbling, lasting twice as long as Eddie would’ve preferred. 

“Have a seat,” he implored, gesturing to the empty chair as he sat down in his own. “Or, if you wanna go grab a coffee or something…”

“No, no, no, I’m okay right now, thank you,” Richie cut in quickly, yanking the chair out and taking a seat on it. His thumbs drummed nervously on the table. 

“Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice,” Eddie said, taking a long, slow sip of his tea. He took the moment to ponder his next move. For the entire drive over, a thousand questions raced through his mind, ones that would reveal all the information he wanted to know about this stranger who now wanted to be a part of their lives. But now, he had nothing. 

“No, yeah, of course!” Richie offered with an enthusiastic nod, “I know this is probably a pretty big deal.”

All Eddie could manage was to stare at the man in front of him, practically gawking at him. What an odd concept this was, to be able to pick apart each familiar feature that he recognized from his son. The same dark, messy hair. The same shade of blue irises, hidden behind the same thick rimmed glasses. Any doubt he had of this man not being Griffin’s father vanished. Gone. 

“Ummm, yeah,” Eddie murmured distractedly, stroking his thumb idly over the handle of his cup. He shook his head, dipping it down to finally break the gaze he held on the other man. “I’m sorry, I just-I see where Griffin gets his unruly eyebrows and hair.” He paused, then added with a chuckle, “And his poor eyesight.”

Richie let out a bark of laughter that faded into a wide, genuine smile. It was nice to hear details about his son, especially the traits that the two of them shared. “That’s awesome,” he replied, “Well, not for him. Not if he’s as blind as I am. Can barely see two feet in front of me.”

Eddie chuckled in response, mentally reminding himself to remain calm. He felt like his mind was racing a million thoughts a second and it was entirely unnecessary. They were just getting to know each other; he didn’t need to plot every future move in that moment, but he couldn’t help himself. It made him feel more in control to know what was going to happen. He didn’t though. He just had to push forward nonetheless.

“So tell me about yourself, Richie.”

Richie hummed in thought for a moment, “I’m Richie. Obviously, you already knew that. You literally just said my name,” he mumbled under his breath, picking at a persistent hangnail. “Uhhh, I just turned forty not long ago. I’ve lived in Maine my entire life. I’ve bounced back and forth between Fairfield and Bangor a few times. Uh-” he trailed off, taking a few seconds to think, “I’m a comedy writer so I work at home mostly. I live in a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment. Of course it only has one bathroom, why would it have more bathrooms than bedrooms? That would be ridiculous, what am I even saying?” 

"Doesn't exactly sound like steady income," Eddie commented somewhat snidely, bringing his cup to his lips to take a small sip. 

Richie brought his index finger up, as if he were about to make a point. He was. "Actually, funny enough, this is the best job I've ever had." He wasn't phased by Eddie's seeming disapproval; he wasn't the first person to tell him what a mistake his profession was. Richie was happy to settle the score. "It pays well and the hours are really flexible. Like I said, I work from home, which is really nice."

Eddie nodded along with his answer. “You must have a lot of free time then, working from home. Do you have any hobbies?”

Richie bit his tongue to prevent himself from replying with something in regards to his binge drinking habit. Because something told him Eddie wouldn't find it the least bit funny. And truth be told, it was hard for him to recall a hobby he’d partaken in within the last few years; when he was younger, he had plenty of hobbies to occupy his time and he was always willing to try something new. That eagerness had definitely faded in the last few years. 

“Umm, I was really into music when I was younger,” he finally answered, “I’ve played the guitar since I was 10. But I really haven't played much lately. Sometimes I'll hit up local comedy clubs on open mic nights. Do those count as hobbies?" Richie ducked his head down and shook it, muttering more to himself than to the man across the table. "God, I'm lame."

"If it's any consolation, this is going much better than I anticipated," Eddie told him with a soft chuckle. He took the last sip of his tea and looked over at Richie, his lips twitching up in a slight smile. "I'm gonna go grab another cup. Do you want anything?"

"Coffee would be great," Richie replied, nodding appreciatively. 

"Cream?" Eddie asked as he scooped up his mug and stood from the table. 

"Please." Richie watched the other man walk back over to the counter, curiosity forcing his gaze to remain on him as he politely interacted with the barista. He reached over to where the jar of sugar sat, cupping it in his hand and sliding it across the table to his other. 

"Thanks," Richie said, looking up to offer Eddie a smile. Reaching up, he grabbed the white mug and sat it down in front of him, dumping a fair amount of sugar into the dark liquid. He swirled it around idly with the spoon beside him as he waited for the other man to get settled once again. A soft heat rushed over his body suddenly, the steam from his coffee wafting up against his face; it made him realize that for some reason he was still wearing his jacket. With all the nerves, he must've forgotten or just deemed it unimportant. He shrugged it off and draped it over the back of his chair. 

When he looked back ahead, he noticed Eddie's eyes lingering on his arms. A frown crept onto his face. At first out of confusion, but then gradually replaced by realization. "I don't do drugs," he volunteered, holding each of his arms out straight, palms facing up. "Never have. Unless you count weed as a drug, which I don't know why you wouldn't because it literally is. But like I've never done any like-" He tapped his index and middle finger to the inside of his elbow. "- _ drugs _ ."

Eddie’s eyes briefly fluttered shut as he took a quiet moment to keep himself from scoffing at the man’s complete lack of tact. After that, he then exhaled a sigh at having been caught staring like that. He didn't mean to be so rude about it, but he also wasn't ashamed of his motives. "I'm sorry," he murmured gently, for good measure, "But I really can't be too safe here."

"I get it," Richie insisted, bringing his cup to his lips and blowing on the hot liquid before taking a small sip. "You wanna be thorough. This is kind of a big deal. So ask away, I am an open book."

Eddie wasted no time in getting down to brass tax. Cut to the chase. No point in pussyfooting around. "Are you and the biological mom still together?"

"Nope, we broke up a long time ago." 

Eddie took the first sip out of his mug, brushing his thumb over the rim to wipe away the drop that escaped. "Can I ask why?"

Richie shrugged. Part of him wanted to lie, insist that he had no clue what led to their break up. It would be so much easier and far less painful than expressing the real reason aloud. But he figured this new blooming relationship would benefit from honesty. “We just wanted different things, I guess.”

Eddie nodded slowly in consideration. He could sense there was more to the story, a missing piece to something much larger. It would be rude to press any further. Even if Eddie felt a certain entitlement to that information. In reality, this man didn't owe him anything. 

Neither did Eddie. 

“Does she know you’re reaching out?” he asked curiously. 

Richie shook his head as he brought his cup to his lips for a sip. “No, she doesn’t,” he added. “I don’t think she’d be very happy if she knew.”

Eddie frowned, “No? Why’s that?”

Richie sighed in an attempt to expel all the negatives feelings associated with this situation. A lifetime of sighs wouldn’t be enough. “Sandy, she uh, she had her mind made up. Pretty much from the moment she found out she was pregnant.”

He remembered when Sandy told him.  _ I’m pregnant, Richie.  _ It hit him like a freight train and felt like an electric shock that traveled from the tips of his fingers down to his toes.  _ Yes, Richie, it’s yours.  _ Scared wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how he first felt.  _ I’m not keeping it, Richie.  _ But that feeling faded, that mutual agreement that adoption was the best option. Slowly at first, but then all at once when he saw his son for the first time.  _ I want nothing to do with it, Richie. I’m done. _

“But you didn’t,” Eddie replied, both knowingly and empathetically. He remembered the terrifying moment when they arrived at the hospital, only to learn that the father hadn’t signed away his rights. Eddie thought he was going to lose everything in that moment. 

Richie shrugged again because that was easier than really answering. He took a large gulp of his coffee, nearly finishing what was left in his cup. If Richie seemed bitter, it was because he was. Extremely so. The whole situation left a bad taste in his mouth and it had been over a decade since it'd happened. Shortly after their would-be son's first birthday, Sandy dumped him. It hurt. There was no denying that. But it wasn't the end of the world. He loved Sandy; he had for quite a number of years. Despite that, he could feel them growing apart and to be honest, he saw it coming from miles away. He couldn't blame her because she did what she needed to do. Once upon a time, that had been one of his favorite things about her. 

Then approximately two years after their split, she settled down with some guy she met at the airport, got married and popped out a couple kids. Just like that. It felt painfully ironic considering just a few years prior they had given up their son for adoption. But that was life. Painfully ironic with the poorest sense of timing.

"Why did you wait so long?" Eddie asked curiously after a few quiet moments, his thumb stroking over the handle of the mug.

Richie let out a shaky sigh, "I don't know really. I guess I was just scared."

"So what made you finally reach out?"

Richie thought about his answer for a moment. It felt weird to divulge to this stranger that he shared his son's birthday; it didn't seem like relevant information to him, but to Richie, it was more than relevant. He spent every one of his last sixteen birthdays wondering what his son's day was like and regretting his inability to be a part of it. 

"We share the same birthday actually," Richie replied, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "And I just turned 40. I don't know, I just, I've always wondered who he is and how he turned out. You know, did I make the right decision? Guess I just wanted to find out for myself."

"Oh wow, so that's why you reached out so soon after his birthday," Eddie pieced together. The timing had seemed suspicious, but he took it to be nothing more than a coincidence. This new revelation brought a new level of sadness to the situation. Right after this man's 24th birthday, he gave away his child to complete strangers. Eddie could only imagine how hard that must've been. 

"Yeah," Richie nodded in a slow, subtle manner. His gaze was captured by a glint of gold flashing in the sunlight. A wedding ring. Richie wondered what the man’s spouse thought about all of this, or why they hadn’t accompanied him. He almost asked. But he decided that it really wasn’t any of his business. He didn’t want to do anything to rock the boat, considering this man had absolutely no obligation to him. 

They talked for a while longer, mostly a Q&A style conversation like they’d been doing. The topics ranged from more on Richie’s employment history to a vague discussion of his medical history. Drinks were finished and shortly after, the two of them rose from the table. Eddie promised he’d be in contact soon to move forward, if that was something Griffin was interested in. Richie agreed wholeheartedly; this was the last thing he wanted to do if Griffin wasn’t interested. 

Even if that did happen, he could at least say he tried and not live with the what ifs. Over all, the interaction went well, but he could still feel the pull of anxiety tugging at his bones and he knew it wasn’t about to go away.

By the time Eddie arrived home that evening, he felt exhausted. He trudged through the door with his shoulders slumped, feet barely lifting off of the ground. The entire day chipped away at his aching bones and any remaining motivation he had left. A conversation needed to be had. He knew that. He should talk to Griffin while it was all still fresh in his mind, but the idea of bringing it up seemed daunting. 

Griffin knew he was adopted. He was a smart kid. He pieced it together when he was young. It never seemed to trouble him though the way Eddie feared it might, like the way Stan, Mike, and Bill had experienced with their daughter when she expressed an interest in meeting her biological parents. For months she insisted, until finally they tracked them down. Then they had to explain to her why they would never allow them back into her life. 

Being one of Camilla's best friends, Griffin had been by her side the entire time. She had even spent a few nights at their house, wanting to escape her own and what she thought to be unjust treatment. Eddie had wanted to explain to her the reasoning of his friends; as a parent, he felt he had advice to offer. But he resisted. It wasn't his place and it wouldn't do any good. 

Griffin never had that curiosity. He never asked to meet his biological parents. Eddie always took it as the biggest compliment to his parenting that Griffin never felt the need. So he didn’t think this was a conversation he would ever have to have.

With a heavy sigh, he made his way upstairs and knocked on Griffin's closed door. "Hey Griff, can I come in?" He paused, listening for a noise of affirmation before slowly pushing the door open.

Griffin sat cross-legged on his bed, a notebook perched on his knee and a textbook laid out in front of him.

“I can come back later,” Eddie was quick to offer, not wanting to interrupt his son when he was clearly working on homework. Especially when he had potentially life changing news. 

Griffin shrugged casually. He tucked his notebook into his textbook and closed it before tossing it haphazardly onto the floor beside his bed. “I was just doing some extra prep for my debate tomorrow. What’s up? You’re super late. Is everything okay?”

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Eddie replied solemnly. He moved over to sit on the edge of Griffin’s bed and immediately his mind was assaulted by the memory of the last time he did it. Once before, he had sat gingerly on Griffin’s bed and then given him the worst news imaginable. He would never forget the agony of having to tell his son that his father was dead; it was the absolute hardest thing he ever had to do in his life, working through the loss of his husband included. Hopefully this time he only had something to gain. 

Much like before, he didn’t know how to start. Was he supposed to just come out and say it? 

“After work today, I went and met a man named Richie Tozier-”

“Hey! Dad, that’s awesome!” Griffin cut in to exclaim enthusiastically, “You could’ve told me you had a date!”

“It wasn’t a date,” Eddie sighed softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Richie Tozier is your biological father.”

For a moment, Griffin didn’t react. His face remained expressionless and by the time he reacted, Eddie wasn’t convinced that Griffin had heard him to begin with. It was a painful mirror, Griffin’s inability to process what he was feeling in the wake of monumental news. 

“Oh.” 

The one word seemed to fall from Griffin’s lips, a subconscious acknowledgement. It was soft, but shocked. Aware, but confused. His eyebrows lifted as his eyes widened slightly. 

Eddie could see the wheels turning in his son’s mind. He could only imagine the speed they must be rotating at. “He said he wants to meet you.”

“Wow,” he whispered, staring down at his navy comforter. 

“He’s a comedy writer. Lives about two hours away from us, in Bangor. He’s really into music. He’s kinda goofy but I guess that comes with the comedy territory,” Eddie recounted to his son, as if this was all pertinent information for him to make an informed decision. It seemed pointless in the grand scheme of things, but he needed Griffin to know, for all it was worth, that his biological father seemed to be a decent man. “Would you be interested in doing that? Meeting your bio dad.”

Griffin let out a noise that almost sounded like a scoff. There was enough exasperation behind it and plenty of distress, too. He opened his mouth, his answer seemingly on the tip of his tongue, but then his mouth snapped shut. His lips pursed together. In that way that spoke volumes to his contemplation. “Can I have some time to think about it?” he asked, almost hesitantly.

Eddie tried to mask his surprise as he nodded eagerly, “Yeah, of course you can,” he replied. He expected an answer, one way or another; Griffin always was one to keep him on his toes. “Whenever you’re ready, just let me know, no matter what you decide.” He reached out to pat Griffin’s knee before standing from his place on the bed. “If you have any questions, please ask.”

“I know, dad,” Griffin murmured quietly, offering Eddie the thinnest smile.

“Good.” Eddie returned his smile and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Griffin chuckled and shook his head, “Of course I do. I love you too.  _ You know that, right?”  _

Eddie returned the laughter, nodding his head seriously. “I do.”

They exchanged goodnights and then Eddie found himself in the kitchen, brewing up a fresh pot of coffee from a machine was anything but fresh in its old age. He didn’t even necessarily want a cup of coffee; it just brought him a sense of comfort to hear its familiar sputtering. He adored the smell of the brew, a particular roast that he refused to stray from. It wasn’t the best coffee out there, but it was his favorite by far. Because it had always been Nathan’s favorite, despite all the shit Eddie used to give him for his weak, tasteless brew. Now, Eddie couldn’t taste a strong cup of coffee without being reduced to tears.

In the end, he decided to have a cup. With everything that had happened that day, he needed the comfort of the drink. He knew above all else that he made the right decision to meet with the man and bring the choice to his son. After all, it was Griffin’s life that would be affected the most by this, so it only made sense to give him the ultimate say in the matter. And despite what Eddie had envisioned, Richie turned out to be a decent man. All these thoughts swirling around in his mind were sure to keep him up far longer than a simple cup of coffee. 

Maybe he would have two. It wasn’t like he would be getting any sleep that night anyway. 


	4. Chapter 4

One of Eddie's happiest memories as a family was watching his husband teach their son how to swim. It was a warm summer day, not long after Griffin's third birthday; the July sun was beating down on them. It created the perfect conditions to enjoy the above ground pool in their backyard, the one Nathan had installed himself as he liked to frequently remind Eddie. 

They had talked on a handful of occasions about teaching Griffin how to swim. But finally, Nathan was able to convince him. The thought of releasing Griffin into the open water terrified Eddie to no end; he didn't even like to run Griffin a bath past his waist. He tried to convince Nathan that he was still too young, that they should wait a couple more years but Nathan assured him that he had nothing to worry about and the two of them would be in there with him the whole time. 

It would have been so much easier to convince himself that his panic was justified if Griffin hadn't enjoyed being in the water as much as he did. If he had gone in kicking and screaming, Eddie wouldn’t have felt so overbearing. But instead, Griffin inherited Nathan's fearlessness. That thought, the bounds of it constantly haunted Eddie. 

But on that summer day, it was temporarily held at bay by the sheer joy of watching his son splash around in the water. Nathan held both of Griffin’s hands in his own and coached him to kick his legs while pulling him around the perimeter of the pool. It was an endearing sight to witness and made him love his husband even more than he thought possible. 

It was a tradition that continued throughout the years. The first day of summer brought about an onslaught of their son asking them if it was warm enough to go swimming yet. He adored the water, just as much as Nathan did, and the two of them bonded over the fact. In fact, it was what led Griffin to join the swim team in high school. And ever since Nathan’s death, it was a way for him to feel close to his father still. Familiarity. Fond memories. For a passing moment, when he first hit the water, the pain of loss was slightly more bearable than on land. 

Which was precisely why Eddie knew he would be able to find his son out back when midnight didn’t find him in his room. As he peeked out the window that looked into the backyard, he contemplated going right back to bed and minding his own business; he had a tendency to meddle into Griffin’s life, or so he’d been told on a handful of occasions.

But this felt different. It ran deeper. Some short hours ago, he had literally, potentially changed the entire course of his son’s life. Now wasn’t the time to butt out and leave him all alone. He needed to be with his son to help him navigate through this mess.

Eddie bit back a shiver as he slid the patio door open; summer was still a couple months away and while the weather was warmer than the past few months had been, the nights still tended to drop significantly in temperature. He had half a mind to order Griffin back inside the house immediately, before he caught a cold. But he bit his tongue because his son deserved the level of independence and trust that he never got when he was his age. 

He sat down along the edge of the pool and rolled his pants up to his knees before dipping his feet into the cool water. It was beyond him how Griffin could stand to be completely submerged in the water; he didn’t get that warm-blooded trait from either him or Nathan, that was for sure.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Eddie asked, his voice soft to keep from startling Griffin. It felt like a stupid question given the circumstances, but it would at least suffice to start the conversation. 

Griffin stopped in the middle of the pool, keeping his arms and legs moving so he would stay afloat. He shrugged his shoulders in response.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie always wanted to give Griffin the opportunity, but never wanted to suffocate him.

Griffin just shrugged again. “I don’t really know what there is to say.”

“You could start by telling me what you’re thinking,” Eddie suggested, his voice soft with understanding, “Or asking any questions you might have.”

“I just...I don’t get it,” he murmured quietly. A moment passed and he shook his head. “It just doesn’t make sense to me. Why now? Why does he even care? He’s the one who gave me up in the first place. So why does he want to meet me?”

There was an odd emotion hiding behind Griffin’s words. It wasn’t anger or resentment. It didn’t stem from his bio dad giving him up but rather he was trying to understand it, to work through it methodically and being completely unable to do so. It was his way of trying to cope with the sudden upset in his routine. The longer he failed to do so, the more he struggled with his decision.

Eddie could see that clear as day. 

“Well, he just turned forty. Not long ago actually.” A slight smile curved up his lips as he knowingly added, “On the fifth.”

Griffin’s gaze shifted to recenter on Eddie, realization seeping into every last one of his features. “We have the same birthday?”

Eddie nodded, “I know. How crazy is that?” he trailed off in a chuckle, kicking his feet in the water that was still far too cold. At least it meant he hadn’t lost feeling in his feet. Yet, anyways. “Sweetie, it’s late. Why don’t we go inside, have a cup of tea, and we can talk in there?”

“I like it out here,” Griffin replied simply. He pushed off from the bottom of the pool and aligned himself to float on his back. His arms were stretched out to his sides, toes pointed to the starry night sky. Living on the edge of the city meant they rarely got to enjoy a full sky of stars, but it felt particularly beautiful right then. It surely created a serene backdrop to an otherwise taxing conversation. 

Some time passed as Griffin floated peacefully in the water and Eddie heavily debated what to say next. He wanted to keep the conversation flowing, but didn’t want to pressure Griffin into talking if he wasn’t ready. 

“He wouldn’t be mad,” Eddie spoke softly. The inflection came across as a fact, one he knew Griffin was aware of. But still, it never hurt to double check. “You do know that, right?” 

Griffin paused. A slow, heavy sigh fell from his lips as he straightened out in the water and moved over to hoist himself up out of the pool. He sat on the edge, directly across from Eddie. 

“I do,” he answered with a nod. Reaching over, he grabbed his glasses and put them on so he’d be able to see. The action proved to be moot when the droplets of water from his hair dripped onto the lenses anyways. Still, he looked down at his hands, picking idly at his nails. “I know he wouldn’t be mad if I chose to meet my biological dad. If he were here, I’m sure he’d actually encourage me to do it,” he trailed off in a fond chuckle. 

Eddie’s lips curl up to match the fondness of Griffin’s chuckle, “Yeah, he definitely would. He just...he wanted what’s best for you. He wanted you to always be happy above all else.” He smiled to himself at the countless memories to flash through his mind, of his late husband and how wonderful of a father he was to their son. Eddie took a brief pause to collect himself, "Do you... want to meet your biological dad? Because it’s totally okay if you don’t! There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Eddie couldn’t even imagine what his son was going through, because even just trying to decide how he felt himself proved to be extremely difficult. With Nathan gone, he was the only remaining family Griffin had left. He knew it was selfish to want things to stay that way, but it was hard to move past that when it had just been the two of them for so long. What would Nathan say? He kept finding himself pondering that in his mind. Griffin was Nathan’s entire world, Eddie knew that; he  _ saw  _ that every single day of their lives together. He would want nothing but the best for their son and he would wholeheartedly let Griffin decide what that meant.

“I don’t know,” Griffin mumbled, brushing his wet hair back. He threw his arms up slightly in defeat. “I’m happy with the way things are. I mean yeah, I miss Dad. Every day. But I don’t want to replace him. I don’t have any holes in my life that need filling. Things are good right now. I don’t want to do anything to mess that up.”

"For what it's worth, Griffin, I don't think meeting him would mess anything up," Eddie offered in a tone that was both gentle and understanding, "I think you only have things to gain from this experience. But he seems to be very conscious of your feelings in this situation, so I'm sure he'd understand if you said no."

Eddie braced his arms on either side of himself and lifted himself to his feet. "Just think about it.  _ Really  _ think about it," he insisted one last time. A smile crept onto his face as Griffin nodded. "Don't stay out much longer, okay? It's freezing and I don't want you getting sick."

Eddie headed up to bed after that, figuring he should also get some sleep since he had to be up for work in a few hours. Right as he was about to drift off, he heard the sound of the backdoor shutting and the lock clicking. A smile crept onto his face when his gaze fell to the framed picture he had on his nightstand. It was one of his favorite pictures ever. Him and Nathan standing in front of their house, when they first bought it, before Nathan fixed it up and before they made it a real home. 

Eddie fought the urge to tear up, instead continuing to smile and quietly whispering, "We raised a good one."

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Richie to fall asleep on the couch. Usually, it happened by accident. Richie would somehow manage to convince himself that he wasn’t really all that tired and then approximately five minutes later, he would be passed out and snoring. Sometimes, he fell asleep with his laptop still situated on his lap; he’d dropped it once or twice. Or a dozen times. But that was beside the point.

This time, it was his nerves that prompted his brief snooze on the couch. He felt inconsolably anxious after his meeting, even though it had gone as well as he could've hoped. Bev had tried to assure him earlier over text that he shouldn't worry, at least until there was something to worry about. Richie appreciated the sentiment, but he was going to agonize over this regardless. 

When he woke, it was with a startle from the loud buzz of his phone vibrating against his glass coffee table. He sat forward and snatched it up, noticing the time first and then the new notification. Just before 3am. From Bev. Wondering what the hell she was doing up, he opened their text thread to read the new messages.

_ Bev [2:47am]: you know what I was thinking _

_ Bev [2:47am]: he's 16. He's probably got a facebook _

_ Richie [2:49am]: true _

_ Richie [2:50am]: but kinda creepy _

_ Richie [2:52am]: that’s a huge violation of his privacy and i just really want to be respectful of his space and his life you know? _

_ Bev [2:55am]: Richie you’re being plenty respectful. I don’t think you need to worry about that. _

_ Richie [2:58am]: youre probably right _

_ Richie [2:59am]: im just kinda in uncharted territory here _

_ Richie [2:59am]:this is wildly outside of my comfort zone _

_ Bev [3:04am]: It is but I’m really proud of you. I’m glad you finally reached out. _

_ Bev [3:05am]: I’m sure everything will work out for the best _

_ Richie [3:06am]: thanks Bev. im glad i did too. well see what happens i guess _

_ Richie [3:09am]: whats got you up at this ungodly hour? _

_ Bev [3:11am]: Willow had an accident. Some nightmare about a “big scary clown” who was trying to eat her _

_ Richie [3:14]: girl after my own heart _

_ Richie[3:14am]: id have an accident too if i had a dream like that _

_ Bev [3:20am]: 😂 ewwwww c’mon Richie that’s so gross  _

_ Richie [3:21am]: just sayin. thats some scary shit. hows shes doing now? _

_ Bev [3:30am]: She’s curled up with daddy in our bed. She’s doing just fine.  _

_ Bev [3:31am]: Meanwhile I’m stuck in the laundry room trying to get yet another urine stain out of these sheets.  _

_ Richie [3:34am]: one of the many joys of parenthood i presume _

_ Bev: [3:35am]: No doubt. Wouldn’t trade it for the world though❤️ _

_ Richie [3:36am]: i bet  _

_ Richie [3:36am]: once youre done partying get some sleep _

_ Bev [3:38am]: goodnight Rich _

_ Richie [3:39am]: night Bev _

Richie exhaled a sigh as he clicked his phone off, leaving him alone in the dark solitude of his apartment. It somehow felt emptier after hearing about the happenings of the Marsh family. Even as she was taking care of laundry alone, she still had her family to return to. All Richie had was an empty bed and the subsequent loneliness that came with it. 

As he trudged to his bedroom, he strongly considered getting a pet. A dog, maybe. Or a cat. Even a hamster or a snake would provide some level of company. He shook his head with a self-pitying chuckle at just how ridiculous that sounded; if he truly wanted a pet, surely he would’ve gotten one by now, right? 

And yet, here he was, sleeping alone.  _ Again.  _ Another long night of debating all his life choices and struggling to get any substantial sleep. Getting back to sleep always proved to be difficult for him, but at least he got a few hours in on the couch. 

He plugged his phone in to charge, placed his glasses on the bedside table, and then stared aimlessly at the ceiling. Through the illumination of the moonlight in through his blinds, he could barely make out the design of the popcorned texture; still, he tried to follow each tiny bump with his eyes, like counting sheep of sorts. Whatever helped; he'd been telling himself that a lot lately. Maybe, after all of this was said and done, regardless of the outcome, he could use some of this for material. 

Because in the end, there was nothing more humorous than real life.

It wasn't often that Griffin went over to Camila's house, but even he needed to escape his own home every now and then. Usually Camila would be the one to seek out the escape, from three parents would cared too much. This time, though, it was Griffin. Not that his dad was caring too much or trying too hard; he just needed some time away to think through everything, without the endless, smothering support. He knew that wasn't something he should take for granted. Countless kids weren't lucky enough to have parents always willing to support them no matter what. Griffin knew he was one of the lucky ones. 

However, after days of heartfelt conversations and inquisitive comments in passing, Griffin needed a break, needed some time to cool off and pretend there wasn’t a life altering decision to make. So he hitched a ride with Avery, who drove the three of them over to the Hanlon household to study and hang out. It was nice. Until Camila brought up the exact thing he was trying to avoid.

“I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to meet him,” she said, voice taking on a faux casualty as she shrugged her shoulders. “Especially if your dad met him and said he was a decent guy.”

“Why would I want to?” Griffin countered, not bothering to look up from his chemistry notes. 

Camila’s response came slowly and almost inquisitively, as though she felt it was so far beyond obvious, “Ummm….because he’s your dad?”

“Except that he’s not,” Griffin was quick to reply. His tone was practically identical to hers.

She scoffed exasperatedly, “You know exactly what I mean. He’s half of your genetic makeup. You’re telling me you have absolutely no interest in meeting him?”

“I gotta agree with Cam here,” Avery chimed in, removing his earbuds and closing his textbook. “It’s kinda nice that this guy wants to be a part of your life. Whether or not you consider him a parent, he obviously cares about you.”

Griffin let out a long, heavy sigh, the kind that conveyed a certain doneness with the current situation. “Yeah? Well, if he cared about me, why’d he give me up in the first place?”

Both Camila and Avery fell silent.

“I’m not upset about it. It’s just a fact,” Griffin stated simply, allowing his voice to soften out any present edge. He spoke purely based on logic. “For whatever reason, he didn’t want to raise me. And that’s his business. But I don’t see why I have to change my life around just to meet him.” He looked up to see both of his friends’ gazes fixed on him and felt traces of agitation creeping up on him. “Can we just drop it?”

The two of them each made general noises of agreement and soon after, the three of them fell back into their various school work. Avery bowed out a couple hours after that, having the rare opportunity to have dinner with his parents for once and not wanting to pass up the chance.

It left just the two of them hanging out in Camila’s room, her sitting at her desk while Griffin took residence on her bed. She insisted that it helped her focus to sit there, though Griffin suspected it was due strictly to her, sometimes overly, kind nature. She could be persistent, but always with the best intentions, which oftentimes crept into his brain and made him question everything.

Like this exact moment. 

Was everyone else right? Was he being unreasonable to have no desire to meet his biological father? Would he regret that stance somewhere down the line? Griffin wasn’t sure anymore. He couldn’t separate his own reasonings from those around him and suddenly it all bled together. Doubt began to quickly sneak in. He shoved his textbook away and grabbed his phone, typing two words into google.

_ Richie Tozier. _

It didn’t yield a ton of results; a facebook page, a mostly inactive twitter, a handful of writing credits, and perhaps the most interesting, a few youtube videos of what appeared to be some stand up comedy, open mic night kind of deal. From the thumbnail alone, he had to hold back a gasp from the uncanny resemblance between this man and himself. He fished his earbuds out of his backpack and popped them in, clicking on the first video dated a few years back.

His heart hammered almost nervously in his chest. It was weird, to say the least, to see his biological father, in any instance. Just  _ seeing  _ him felt weird. He couldn’t imagine how bizarre it would be to actually meet him and interact with him. 

After a couple minutes, he felt the bed dip slightly and looked over to see Camila crawling into bed. She sat down next to him, resting her head on Griffin’s shoulder.

“Whatcha watchin’?” she asked curiously, peeking over to see the video on the screen. She gasped, “Woah, is that…?”

“My biological dad, yeah,” Griffin replied with a nod. He took out one of his ear buds and handed it over to his friend. “He’s not very funny, but we look  _ so _ much alike.”

“You really do,” she agreed while popping the earbud into her ear. “Look, Griff, I didn’t mean to badger about him. I just don’t want you to regret making the wrong decision.”

“I know,” Griffin said, his voice soft and understanding. “And I know you weren’t lucky enough to have the same opportunity…”

Camila shrugged, “That’s not the point. What matters right now is that you make a decision that you’re happy with. If you’re happy not meeting him, then you shouldn’t meet him. You know everyone will support you no matter what choice you make."

“Yeah,” Griffin smiled and nodded slightly. “I know. I’m just not sure what I’m gonna do yet. But I really appreciate you being here. You’re a good friend, Cam.”

She offered him a small smile at first, which then widened as he pressed a chaste kiss to her curls. “I know,” she chirped, head still resting on his shoulder. “You are too. And if you decide to meet your biological dad, he’ll be very lucky to have the chance to know you.”

“Thank you,” Griffin murmured softly. He tilted his head down so that it rested on top of Camila’s and the two of them spent the next half hour watching all the videos in a comfortable silence.

Today was the day.  _ The day.  _ Getting into this whole ordeal Richie never thought the day would come; he was certain that he was barrelling towards a dead end at full speed, but as it turned out, there was nothing but open road before him. And it was intimidating, to say the least. He’d gone through a whole closet full of outfits, none of which were right. It was hard considering he’d never been in this situation before. What was he supposed to wear to meet his biological son? Was there even a right outfit to wear to such an occasion? Such a specific one no less. But after all was said and done, it really didn’t matter. 

It just wasn’t important.

It was important to cherish the moment. It was important to realize just how lucky he was to be in his current position, where he got the opportunity to meet his son sixteen years after the painstaking experience of giving him up. It was also, equally as- _arguably_ _more_ -important to be on time. Which was precisely why Richie had arrived at the agreed upon restaurant extremely early. Well, moderately early. He arrived at the restaurant precisely on time, but for him, that was basically early.

As he walked into the lobby, he felt like his heart was about to rip out of his chest and flop down onto the bright tile beneath him. He wasn’t sure if they would be waiting in the lobby for him, if he would just walk in and stroll right up to them. The thought unnerved him greatly; the moment he’d been waiting for was quickly approaching and he wanted to know exactly when it’d happen. He wanted to be in the moment, to remember it in full. And that was unlikely to happen with the amount of nerves swirling around in his gut. 

For the time being, he focused on just locating the two of them. Once he figured out where they were, he could go from there. Then he could panic for real. So he approached the hostess and inquired about his party;  _ under Kaspbrak _ , he presumed. She nodded like she knew precisely what he was talking, instructing him to follow her then immediately and briskly walking away.

This was it.

This was the moment.

Each heavy step of his foot against the ground echoed to the heavy thump of his heart. His hands trembled violently where they were shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He felt like he could puke at any given moment. The hostess pointed out the table which was just across the room and suddenly everything stopped. All the sounds around him, the chatter of the diners, the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, it all just cut out. 

Sitting some odd feet away from him, Richie could see his son. For the first time in sixteen years. He had to will the tears from gathering in his eyes at this monumental moment. Despite how much time had passed, Griffin looked the exact same; obviously, he had grown, but Richie could still see the small, blue eyed baby he’d held in his arms the day he was born. He’d seen himself in his son then. And yet, he couldn’t believe the resemblance between them now. 

The only problem was that his feet just wouldn't move. He kept telling himself to walk over there, but nothing happened. Chances are he would've stood there for an eternity had a waving hand not broken him out of his dazed stupor. And then suddenly, he was walking-no,  _ floating _ -over to the table. Just like that, he was there. Standing in front of his son and wondering what the hell to say.

All that managed to come out was an extremely shaky, but no less enthusiastic, “H-h-hi!”

“Hi,” Griffin offered back with a small smile.

Eddie reached his hand out to Richie as he sat down. “Hi, it’s good to see you again,” he chimed in, sounding just as formal as he had the first time they met. 

“Yeah, you too!” Richie’s words came out eager, overtly so. It was a curse he couldn’t quite keep at bay, his ever constant over enthusiasm. He turned his attention towards Griffin, “Thank you, for uh, agreeing to meet me.” His gaze flickered down to where Griffin’s hands rested on the table; he repeatedly pushed and picked at his cuticles, a noticeably nervous action. 

“Saying no didn’t really seem like a reasonable option,” Griffin said simply, shrugging his shoulders as he took a sip of his drink.

Just then, a waitress came over to their table to take Richie’s drink order.

He smiled up at her and gestured to the glass sitting in front of him. “I’ll just stick with water, thank you.” His fingers curled around the glass and brought it to his lips; in a few large gulps, he downed the entire thing.

“I’ll bring you some more,” the waitress said slowly, having watched him the entire time.

Richie offered her a small, appreciative smile, muttering a quick, “thanks,” before she walked away. When he turned back to Griffin and Eddie, they were both staring back at him with matching wide eyes.

“Thirsty?” Griffin asked, wearing the hints of an amused smile. 

Richie chuckled lightly and drummed his fingers against the table. “Yeah, I guess so,” he replied as the waitress came by to refill his water. He immediately took a sip of the fresh glass, almost like a nervous tick. “So uh, is your partner going to be joining us?”

Griffin whipped his head over to stare Eddie down incredulously, “You didn’t tell him?” 

“Well, it didn’t exactly come up,” Eddie justified under his breath. He subconsciously twisted the gold band around his ring finger on his right hand. “I was more concerned with getting to know him first.”

“I’m so sorry,” Richie cut in, panic quickly beginning to set in. How was it that he’d already said the wrong thing? He’d barely been there a few minutes and he already managed to fuck it up. “I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to ans-”

“He’s dead,” Griffin stated in a painfully blunt manner. “Yeah, he died almost five years ago.”

Richie’s eyes widened as he scrambled to apologize, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He tried to keep himself from spiraling; there was still plenty of time to turn things around. Griffin didn’t seem thrilled to be there and that was okay, Richie hadn’t necessarily expected him to be. At least he had his foot in the door now.

“Griffin Drake Kaspbrak,” Eddie snapped quietly through clenched teeth. 

“What?” Griffin questioned, sipping at his drink. “It’s true.” His features softened, as did his voice when he added, "I just don't like the idea of trying to hide it."

Eddie sighed, "That's not what I was trying to do, Griff. I just want to keep this a positive experience for everyone. Don't you agree?"

Griffin nodded slowly, as though he was considering the answer as he gave it. "Yeah, I guess so. But you also can't deny that this is a little weird." His gaze flickered back and forth between them before adding, "For everyone."

Richie let out a bark of laughter, because it was funny and it was true. The whole thing felt foreign; he could still hardly believe he was sitting across from his son as he currently sat across from him. It was wild to think they were really doing this. "He's not wrong," he proclaimed, his laughter still trailing off. "We're all crossing into uncharted territory here."

Eddie blew out a breath, cheeks puffed out and eyes slightly widening. “Yeah, it definitely is,” he mumbled and took a slow, calculated sip of what appeared to be a cocktail of some kind. 

“Do you...have any questions?” Richie asked hesitantly, as though he was scared of the floodgate he was about to open. At this point, he was literally asking for the scrutiny and in depth evaluation of his biggest life decision. It’d be difficult, but he figured he owed it to Griffin. It was the least he could do, give him the answers to all the questions he knew were coming. He held his breath while he waited.  _ Why did you give me up? Why didn’t you reach out sooner? Why didn’t you love me enough to keep me? _

“Why do you do stand-up if you aren’t funny?” 

Those ten words knocked the air out of Richie’s lungs in a way he certainly wasn’t expecting. He coughed out a chuckle because, for a second, it was all he could manage. “Wait, what?”

“On youtube, in your first video, you were practically booed off the stage,” Griffin answered, clearly amused, “But there’s like five or six videos after that. Why bother doing more?”

Richie took a moment to think about it, or rather thought about how to phrase his answer. He knew right away why he did it; it was just a matter of conveying that out loud. “I love comedy. I love making people laugh.” His tone was simple, so was his answer. “Sometimes that just meant people laughing at me versus laughing at my jokes.”

“That didn’t make you sad? To have people laugh at you like that,” Griffin frowned a little as he spoke. 

Richie shrugged and took a gulp of his water, wiping the condensation from his fingertips onto his pants. “I guess I just never thought about it like that. People were laughing so I considered that a job well done.” A beat of silence passed. In it, Richie found the confidence; things were vaguely comfortable between them already. “Alright, I got a question for you. Of everything you could’ve asked, why’d you go with that?” 

“I was curious,” Griffin responded like it was as easy as that. 

Richie eyed him skeptically, his thumb chasing a drop of condensation trickling down his glass. “That’s all you wanna know? There’s nothing else? Nothing specific?”

“I mean, I can ask those questions.” Griffin’s tone rang beyond knowing. “I know those are the questions I’m supposed to ask. But I just-” He paused briefly, “I don’t really care about the answers, to be honest with you. It doesn’t matter to me why you gave me up or why you decided to do this after all this time. I’m happy with the way my life has turned out so far.” He dipped his head to chuckle darkly. “For the most part anyways. So...I don’t really know why I’m doing this.”

Richie felt a pang in his chest, of what he wasn’t sure. Confusion. Uncertainty. Regret. No, he didn’t regret doing this. But worry was beginning to seep into his mind. It was a dripping faucet; undetectable at first until one drop broke through the haze and every subsequent drop sounded louder and louder than the last. 

This was a bad idea.

_ You shouldn’t have done this. _

**_You should just leave now before things-_ **

“Really, Griffin?” Eddie questioned, looking over at his son with an incredulous frown. “C’mon.”

“No, no, no, it’s okay,” Richie insisted immediately, going with his gut response before slowing down and taking a calming breath. Then he continued. “That’s totally fair. This is a lot to process. Like I said, I’m just really glad to get this opportunity to see the person you became. Strong willed, obviously.”

“Being on the debate team definitely helps,” Eddie added with a knowing chuckle.

This brought a smile to Richie’s face. It was a small glimpse into his son’s life, into the person he became all these years later. From the get go, this was all he really wanted. It gave him a firm sense of assurance, like maybe he did in fact make the right decision. Sure, it’d hurt like hell to give his child away to strangers, but clearly it had been the right call to make. “Yeah? You’re on the debate team? That’s awesome.”

For the rest of the evening, Richie held that sentiment with him. They spent a few hours at the restaurant together, eating and getting to know each other through a series of questions and anecdotes. Much to his relief, Griffin agreed to another meeting and even insisted that Richie decide the when and where.

Richie knew there was a whole lifetime of stories he’d missed, but this felt like a good start. Until next time. Until they got to make some memories of their own. 


End file.
